


The Exigency

by hope_s



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergent, Canon Timeline, Cell Phones, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Heist, Heist Wives, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Proposal, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Prison, Romance, Sexting, Slow Burn, Smut, Texting, Travel, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_s/pseuds/hope_s
Summary: There’s one contingency that Debbie Ocean hasn’t planned for, one tiny (huge) possibility that she missed. When that goes wrong and Debbie’s jewel heist of the century is in jeopardy, the question of the job’s success rests in Lou’s hands. And if Debbie can trust Lou with her dream job, maybe she can trust her with a lot more than that, too.





	1. The Flaw in the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! While I've been posting my Beautiful Trauma series, I've been working on this canon divergent AU. I hope you enjoy it; it's going to be quite a ride! 
> 
> I'll be posting every week probably, maybe every five days. Please bookmark/subscribe! :)
> 
> EDIT (10/2/19): I realized that a few phrases and paragraphs didn't post in my first copy & paste. It should all be there now! Sorry about that.

“Good afternoon, Miss Ocean.”

“Hi.”

“As you know, parole is a privilege, and one of the restrictions on any parolee is to avoid the company of any person who has a criminal record of any kind.” There was a pause, and Debbie said nothing. She kept her face pleasant and impassive. “That would include most of your extended family.”

“Yeah,” Debbie agreed, “that’s…obviously not something I’m proud of.”

“Would this pose an impossible challenge for you?” The parole board officer had a calm monotone voice that reminded Debbie of a computer. He was flanked by two other officers, a man on his left and a woman on his right, both of whom were looking at him rather than at Debbie.

“No,” Debbie replied. “No, I don’t want that life. I _never_ wanted that life. My brother—” She swallowed hard. “—may he rest in peace – was a criminal. I loved him…” Debbie knew that was the truest thing she would say today. She _did_ love Danny, and she hoped that the parole board would see that truth because it probably made her seem a bit more human. “He was a conman,” she went on. “It was in his blood.”

“And it’s not in your blood?”

“No,” Debbie said quickly. “No, sir…uh…” She made a show of her hesitation, trying to demonstrate that this was something difficult for her to discuss, as if the shame of her actions was still eating at her after all these years, which – she reflected – it was, but not for the reasons they thought. “I fell for the wrong person.” Well, _that _was true. Sort of. “It was a mistake…” She half-smirked, trying to draw them into a sense of her humanity. “…but it…happened, and…” She paused as if she was choosing her words carefully.

The parole board officer said nothing. He stared back at her, pen poised over the pad of paper in front of him, eyebrows raised. The woman on his right clicked her tongue and made a tiny note on the paper in front of her before turning back to stare at the man in the center. 

“…and if I were to be released, I would…uh…” Debbie let the tears gather in her eyes right on cue. “Sorry,” she said thickly, a slight crack in her voice. “Wow, just saying that…” She sighed heavily and shook her head in feigned amazement at her own emotion. “_If_ I were to be released…” She cleared her throat. Each action was calculated and precise, and she could see a crease on the brow of the officer that told her that her crocodile tears were convincing. “…I would just want the simple life. I just want to…hold down a job, make some friends, go for a walk after work in the fresh air, and pay my bills.” Debbie finished speaking and sniffed quietly, blinking quickly to remind everyone watching of the tears in her eyes.

“Right,” the officer said finally. His eyes dropped from her face to his notes. In her peripheral vision, Debbie saw a guard lean forward to pass her a tissue.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, dabbing at her eyes and shooting the guard a strained smile.

“Miss Ocean,” the parole board officer continued. Debbie focused her eyes back on him.

“Yes, sir,” she said politely.

“You will be escorted back to your cell while we deliberate,” he said, still in that blank monotone that she actually found somewhat impressive. He gave a tiny nod toward each of his fellow officers. The man on his left twitched slightly as though he had been staring off into space thinking about his dinner and not paying attention to anything that was said. The woman on his right pursed her lips. Neither of them looked at Debbie. 

“Uh…okay,” Debbie said with a small, nervous smile. Her face might be contorted into a show of meek anxiety, but the pounding of her heart told a different story. Her own true feelings were tortuously loud, born of the yearning ache to just be _free_ of this place, to get out and run the most glamorous and glorious con of her life, to find _Lou. _

_Lou…_

Debbie was barely aware of standing up to follow two guards back to her cell. The unchanging cinder blocks passed by in a blur of dull familiarity. There was no reason to think that her parole wouldn’t be granted. She had an almost spotless behavioral record, and she was well liked by guards and inmates alike. True, her entire family was comprised of criminals, but most of them were dead now, even Danny, which hurt more than she could describe. Her friends were criminals, too, but hardly any of them had ever been caught, so there wasn’t a lot tying her to anyone suspicious. There wasn’t a lot tying her to anyone at all. There was _Claude_, of course; her stomach churned at the thought of him. But if her plan worked, he would end up in a cell just like hers, and she wouldn’t ever have to worry about him again.

And there was Lou.

Debbie lay on her bed, listening to the noise drifting in from the corridor. A fight had broken out in a cell down the hall. She winced at the unmistakable sound of a skull bouncing off cinderblock. There was a yell from a guard and the click of a taser gun. The quieter sounds that followed seemed to roar in Debbie’s head: the muffled sounds of two guards talking and the rustle of movement as unconscious bodies were born on stretchers towards the infirmary. Debbie bit down on the inside of her cheek and breathed slowly through her nose, willing the nausea in her stomach to pass. She didn’t like the sound of conflict. She had thought she would get used to it in here, but she hadn’t. At last, the sounds faded, and there was silence but for the humming white noise of the fluorescent lights. Debbie’s stomach unclenched just a little – just enough for her to _think_.

She thought about the job, and she thought about _Lou. _

Her cellmate was on a work assignment, and it seemed almost unnaturally quiet, a bit like being back in solitary. Today, Debbie appreciated the time to reflect as she waited for the parole board’s verdict. She had calculated every possible contingency, and practically every single one worked out in her favor. Debbie itched to put her newest con into motion. She could feel the tension in her body as though she were poised at the start of a race, waiting for Lou to swoop in and grab her hand so they could begin. Because she wasn’t going to do it without her, that was for sure. They would be in it together. _Together_. Tonight – or perhaps tomorrow night, depending on how she felt once she stepped outside – Debbie hoped to fall asleep wrapped around Lou, between eight-hundred thread-count sheets.

Debbie shivered at the thought and turned onto her side to face the wall. The last time she saw Lou had been almost three years ago. They had an unspoken agreement that too many visits might draw unwanted attention. Lou had smuggled her a contraband cell phone two years ago, but Debbie hadn’t even turned it on. Every so often, she told herself she would, but she thought it might be too painful. Their relationship – whatever _they_ were – had always been a very physical, tactile phenomenon. It was Lou tucking a piece of hair behind Debbie’s ear. It was Debbie swiping her thumb across Lou’s cheekbone. It was late-night, post-heist adrenaline manifested in flushed skin and desperate breaths. Debbie closed her eyes against the images floating before her eyes – so close she could almost taste them, and yet…

“Ocean?”

Debbie turned over. “Hey, Dina,” she said as she caught sight of the guard.

“They’re calling you back in.”

Debbie sat up. “They made a decision?”

“Yup. Let’s go.”

Debbie walked one step in front of Dina down the long corridor towards the parole board offices. “You know yet?” Debbie asked. She had a partnership-of-sorts with Dina built on contraband cigarettes and mutual respect. She trusted her, knew she was one of the few guards who was actually a good person and not just in it for the false sense of power.

“Nah,” Dina said, “I’m sure I’ll hear later. I better see you on your way out, okay?”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Dina knocked on the door of the parole board office before opening it. Debbie stepped inside and heard the door click shut behind her. She fixed the impassive, pleasant expression back on her face and settled onto the cold metal of the folding chair. There was a different parole board officer across from her this time, but he had the same, unfeeling expression. God, everything here was so _fucking_ bland except for the bright orange color of the jumpsuits. Debbie hated it.

“Miss Ocean,” the officer began, “we have reviewed your request and have made the decision to deny your parole.”

Debbie blinked, though her insides were suddenly in knots. _Denied_. She hadn’t really planned for that. This was her last opportunity for parole. The first of June would mark the end of her sentence, but that was almost a month after the Met Gala. _The Met Gala…_

The man cleared his throat. “Given the recent passing of your brother under…suspicious circumstances, there’s just too much of a chance for relapse into destructive behaviors.”

_Destructive behaviors? Seriously? _Debbie thought. _I’m in here for _art _fraud, that’s literally the _opposite _of destruction._ She stayed silent, letting her eyes fall to her hands. Reading between the lines of the parole officer’s words, Debbie knew their _real _fear was that she had somehow inherited the formidable Ocean empire via Danny’s death. They weren’t exactly _wrong_, but even so, it stung. 

“We do have some options for grief counseling,” the officer continued after a moment. “And we recommend that you take advantage of those resources during the remainder of your sentence, which will end on or near the first of June.”

Debbie swallowed hard, feeling real tears burn behind her eyes. She blinked slowly and clenched her jaw to ensure that no one noticed. Pulling herself together, she fixed a look of numb disappointment onto her face.

“Do you have any questions?” the officer asked.

Debbie liked plans, liked situations where she knew exactly what was going to happen. She liked a thrill – that’s where the criminality came in – but she preferred it in the context of the long game. Improvisation made her nervous. She cleared her throat but didn’t say anything. Would it be better to cry? To fight the decision with logic? To plead for an exception to be made? Debbie thought of her plan, her most delicious, _beautiful _plan – the jewelry heist of the century…

“If you don’t have any questions,” the officer said finally, clearly bored by her silence. “You’ll be escorted back to your cell.”

Debbie glanced up from her lap and met the man’s eyes for a fleeting moment. “Couldn’t I do the grief counseling as part of my parole? I mean,” she sighed, “I think it’s a good idea…” She choked back a sob that was only half-feigned this time. “…I…Danny—”

“The board’s decision is final, Miss Ocean,” the officer said coolly, already packing up his things. “Unless you have a question about something we can actually—”

“Can I get an unsupervised visit?”

The officer stopped midway through reaching for his briefcase and looked skeptically at her. Her clicked the ballpoint pen in his hand nervously several times. Another officer glanced at him in some surprise. Unsupervised visits were generally reserved for spouses, immediate family, and lawyers. Debbie had none of those. “With who?” the officer asked somewhat exasperatedly. It was nearing mid-afternoon now, and Debbie suspected that she was his last appointment of the day. He wanted to get this over with. 

“My…well…” Debbie thought of how much Lou would laugh at what she was about to say. “…well, my…_partner_…she…” Debbie stammered herself towards a blush that she felt creeping up her cheeks and down over her collarbones. She averted her eyes from the men in front of her in an embarrassed sort of way, partially to hide her own amusement. “We would have gotten married…I was going to ask her on her birthday in May if I was paroled, I…” The lie settled onto her shoulders like a familiar woolen blanket – soft and warm.

The parole board officer looked at her blankly, nonplussed.

Debbie’s brain was working almost too quickly for her to catch up. There was still a way that her plan _might_ work, but she had to talk to Lou. She had to _see _Lou. “Please,” Debbie said, looking up at the men in front of her with purposefully watery eyes. “It would mean a lot for me to see her, and I know my behavioral record is clear, so…” She trailed off as if she were losing her nerve, giving the officers the chance to swoop in and see themselves as saviors.

“Uh…,” the officer began. He glanced sideways at the man on his left, who nodded once without any change in his impassive expression. “Uh…yeah. We can arrange an unsupervised visit for tomorrow. What’s the name?”

“Louise Miller,” Debbie said firmly. There was no point using fake names at this point; they had to seem legit. “She owns a club called Anchorline, in Brooklyn.”

“Right,” the officer said, scribbling Lou’s name and information on a bright turquoise Post-it note. “Admin will give her a call.”

“Thank you,” Debbie said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I…appreciate it.”

**

The cell door closed behind Debbie with a familiar clang that she barely heard. She stood frozen in the middle of the small room, staring at her bed without really seeing it. She had been so, _so _sure that her parole would be granted. She had hung everything on that. It hadn’t occurred to her that Danny’s death would change anything regarding her release. If anything, taking him out of the equation meant one less criminal for her to contact. _Destructive behaviors, destructive behaviors_…The words turned over and over in her mind. They didn’t make any sense, but then, they didn’t have to. The men who ran this place could bullshit any excuse they wanted to keep someone here.

If Lou agreed, the job could still work. Running it with one less person meant putting a little more on each of their plates to make sure everything went smoothly. It _could_ work, and Debbie admitted (grudgingly) that there _was_ something poetic about pulling a con from behind bars. The revenge would be a little less sweet, perhaps, without Claude catching a glimpse of her face. However, as long as he ended up with a longer sentence than her own, Debbie would be satisfied. Debbie’s mind ticked through her plan, running each element as she had a thousand times, but this time _without_ herself in the picture. It still worked. Perfectly. Like clockwork. Debbie managed a small smile. Lou could do it. _They _could do it.

Still, Debbie’s body felt heavy with sadness. She wasn’t disappointed about not being present for the Met Gala – that was the _least _of her worries, really. As long as the job worked and she had an alibi, that was all that mattered. She wasn’t sad about Danny, either – not at the moment, anyway. If he was really dead, she would mourn him once the heist was over. If he _wasn’t _dead, well, then she just had to wait. There was no use worrying about it now. No, the reason for the tears now pricking at the corners of Debbie’s eyes was that the denial of her parole meant another three months without Lou.

Debbie missed Lou more than she had missed anything in her life. It had been ten years since they had last shared a bed, shared a kiss. Debbie wondered if she would be able to prevent herself from simply melting into Lou’s embrace tomorrow during the unsupervised visit. Even though she wasn’t entirely sure what their partnership would look like during the Met Job and afterwards, Debbie was certain that Lou would be there. They had made promises to each other before Lou left ten years ago, and those promises had been implicitly renewed on the day before Debbie’s sentencing when she finally plucked up the courage to call her again. In many ways, Lou was the reason Debbie had come up with the Met Gala Heist in the first place; Lou and the Met Museum itself were the two constants in every version of Debbie’s plan.

She wasn’t sure what she _wanted _with Lou once this was all over, once the heist was complete and she was out of jail. Debbie wasn’t good at putting words to feelings. However, she _did_ know that her skin felt different without Lou brushing up against her – different in a prickly, uncomfortable way. Lou’s sharp angles, her platinum blonde hair, her leather – it all fit against the edges of Debbie’s shadowy silhouette. It just…worked. _They_ worked, and that was all Debbie needed to know for now.

Stirred into motion by thoughts of Lou, Debbie walked across to her bed and sank onto it, rooting around under the shitty, plastic mattress cover until she felt the hard corner of the contraband cellphone Lou had sent her (via Dina) two years ago. She pulled out the phone and turned it over a few times in her hand. Lou deserved some warning before the prison called her. Debbie wasn’t sure what to say, knew it had to be cryptic and short – nothing that would raise any red flags. Debbie sank onto her side on the bed, facing the wall as the phone powered on. There were two contacts: Lou and Danny. Debbie smiled sadly at Danny’s name as she touched the MESSAGE icon next to Lou’s information.

_Parole denied. Private visit tmrw. _Debbie typed out the words and then stared at them. Somehow, it made the situation much more real to actually see it written out so succinctly. It was cold and banal, but she couldn’t manage anything else right now. If she started probing her feelings, she was sure her texts would run into paragraphs. It was better to be blunt, to make sure Lou knew that Debbie was okay. Debbie thought about adding a ‘_plz_’ to the end, but that seemed a bit desperate. She pressed send with a finger that shook slightly, made sure the volume was completely turned off in case Lou responded, and curled into a ball with her eyes squeezed shut. She ran the new version of the heist over and over in her head for uncounted seconds, minutes, hours. There were a few minor snags, but she fixed each one diligently, trying not to clutch the phone too tightly. After what felt like days, the device finally vibrated in her hand. Debbie jumped as though someone had shouted in her ear, and fumbled with the screen to turn it on.

_Unsupervised?_ Lou’s question wasn’t entirely unexpected. One of the factors that had kept her visits few and far between was the discomfort of the supervised visiting room.

_Yes_, Debbie responded immediately.

_I’ll be there, Jailbird. _

In a fit of romance, Debbie pressed her lips to the screen of the phone and felt tears behind her eyes once more. _Thx, Lou, _she typed, once she had mentally shaken herself. 

There was a pause before Lou’s next text, and Debbie buried the side of her head in the pillow, keeping one eye trained on the screen and the phone well-hidden in her hand. Finally, the device buzzed again: _I’m sorry._

Debbie pressed her lips into a thin line as she typed a hasty response. _Me too. They’ll call u @ the club to set up the visit. _

_K, _Lou replied immediately, _U need anything?_

_No, I’m OK. See u tmrw._

_See u, Debs. _

There was something about the perfunctory ending of their conversation that made yet another wave of emotion to crash over Debbie. She wasn’t usually prone to tears; she preferred lying in a blank stupor staring up at an even blanker ceiling. But this…this was different. The four years between when Lou had left and the date of her arrest had been full of a similar, uncontrollable level of emotion. Debbie had felt herself spiraling as each of her solo jobs went wrong. It wasn’t as if everything had gone perfectly with Lou. It hadn’t, not at the end – that was part of why they had separated, but there was still a comfort to it that Debbie hadn’t recognized until it was gone; until _Lou _was gone. Eventually, she had given up on the solo gigs and teamed up with Danny, but his team didn’t really value her skills. That’s when she had started things with Claude. It had been a dull, though lucrative, way to get back on her feet – until it wasn’t. Until he had framed her for art fraud and gotten her thrown in prison. _Six years with a chance for parole_. _A chance for parole. A chance…_That chance had flickered and died. All the strength and all the hope that Debbie had cultivated in prison seemed very fragile now. She clutched the rough blankets of her bunk tightly in her fists, imagining them to be the only two things she could count on: in her left hand was the perfection of her Met Gala plan, and in her right hand was Lou. _The job and Lou_, Debbie told herself. _The job and Lou. Tomorrow. The job…and Lou…Lou…Lou. _

“Didn’t expect to see you back here, Ocean.” A sympathetic voice cut through Debbie’s repetitive thoughts.

Debbie turned over to face the middle of the room. She hadn’t heard the door of the cell open and close, but her cellmate had clearly just returned from dinner. Mercifully, Debbie had been allowed to skip the meal tonight. She suspected that Dina had pulled some strings. “Hey, Marcia,” Debbie said, trying to sound normal. 

Marcia winced at the look on her face. “That bad, huh?”

Debbie grimaced. “Not good.”

“Denied?” Marcia asked, sinking onto her own bed and looking across the narrow cell at Debbie.

“Yeah,” Debbie replied, tilting her neck to each side until it cracked and surreptitiously turning off the contraband phone while keeping it hidden under her pillow.

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Yes,” Debbie agreed. They sat in silence for several minutes. Debbie liked Marcia. She was down-to-Earth and quiet, and she didn’t take anybody’s bullshit. She hadn’t been here as long as Debbie, but they’d been placed together in a double cell well over a year ago. It had been a better year than the first few by far.

“I really thought you’d get it,” Marcia said eventually, shaking her head. “Let’s face it, you’re pretty and white, and it’s your first time in here.” She gestured vaguely at her own dark skin. “I mean, there’s no way they’d ever let me out early, but you…I thought you had a decent shot. They say why?”

“Danny.” It was all Debbie could say. Marcia didn’t know that Debbie’s family were criminals, but she knew Danny had died. She had been there when Dina brought Debbie the news, and she had stayed awake all night to make sure Debbie was alright. Debbie hadn’t quite worked through the gratitude she felt for that, but it really _had_ meant something. 

“What, they think you’ll fuck up some more paintings ‘cause your brother died?”

“Something like that.” Debbie met Marcia’s eyes and managed a half-smile.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Debbie said with a sigh, repeating the same words she had texted Lou. She _was_ sorry. It put a serious wrench in her plans, and Debbie didn’t _like _wrenches in her plans.

“How long you got left now?”

“Three months.”

“Shit,” Marcia let her breath out in a hiss, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her entwined fingers. 

“Mm hmm. It’ll be a long few months.” Debbie uncrossed her legs and set both feet on the floor. She ran her hands down her shins and stretched her back. “I got an unsupervised visit, though,” Debbie added after a moment.

“With that rock-chick Australian girlfriend of yours?” Marcia asked, eyebrows raised. Marcia had seen the Polaroid photo that Lou had sent two years ago when she had been going through some old boxes: Debbie and Lou in Paris twelve years ago.

“She’s not my—”

“Yes, she is,” Marcia interrupted her firmly.

Debbie shook her head and smirked, but she didn’t argue the point. It was…nice to think of Lou that way.

“What’d you say to make that happen?” Marcia asked.

Debbie felt herself blush very slightly. “Told them I wanted to marry her.”

“See? What I tell you?”

“It’s not…” Debbie trailed off. She had been meaning to say that it wasn’t true, but that didn’t feel _quite _right. Maybe she hadn’t _actually _planned to ask Lou to be her wife, but she didn’t _not _want to marry her. Debbie hadn’t ever considered it before, not _really_, not beyond a few jokes here and there over the years. But now they _could _actually get married, what if…what _if_…

Marcia raised her eyebrows at the expression on Debbie’s face and sighed. “Oh, you’ve got it _hard_ for that girl.”

Debbie shrugged. “Maybe a little,” she said with dignity.

Marcia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, let me know how you feel after the visit tomorrow.”

Debbie sighed and shook her head. “I really thought…”

“I know.”

Debbie lay back down on her bed and fell silent. Marcia took the hint that the conversation was over and settled onto her own bunk, pulling out a long letter from her husband from under her pillow. Debbie watched her eyes soften as she read it, and she wondered if that happened to her own eyes when she looked at her photo of Lou. Now she thought of it, she wasn’t even sure where the picture had gotten to. The last time she had looked at it, one of the more threatening guards had interrupted her, storming into her cell to berate her about a wardrobe violation that she was quite sure was fake. She had blindly shoved the photograph into the first book that came to hand, not bothering to look at the cover and far too preoccupied with trying to avoid the guard’s wandering hands to identify the book by feel. By the time the guard left, Debbie hadn’t been able to bring herself to do anything other than curl into a ball and stare at the wall. 

Now, desperate for something to do with her hands, Debbie slid off the bed and went to her stack of books in the corner. She knew it wasn’t in _Sherlock Holmes_; she read that far too often to keep anything in its pages. She picked up an old edition of _The Norton Anthology of Western Music_ that she had stolen from the prison library and shook out the leaves. Nothing fell out, so she turned to the next book and the next. Most of them she had never opened. They were gifts from Tammy, and they weren’t really her style, though she appreciated the thought.

“It’s in your Shakespeare,” Marcia said through a sigh.

“What?”

“The picture of Lou?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder and blinked in surprise. Marcia smiled and rolled her eyes.

“It’s in your Shakespeare,” Marcia said again, pointing to the large, green tome. “I noticed it sticking out the other day…thought you put it in there on purpose – marked something in _Romeo & Juliet_ or some romantic shit like that.”

Debbie pulled the book towards herself and saw the bent corner of the photo sticking out of the side. The picture fell out onto her lap as she shook out the leaves. She checked the page from where it had come. “No, it was _Henry V_,” she said with a deadpan glance at Marcia.

Marcia snorted with laughter. “Whatever floats your boat, Ocean.”

Debbie smirked and re-stacked the books in the corner before picking up the photo and returning to her bed to study it. She and Lou both looked a little different than they did now, but it was still _them_. They looked happy. Their bodies were turned towards each other. Lou’s left arm was wrapped around Debbie’s waist and her right hand was resting over Debbie’s upper stomach and ribs. It was a possessive gesture that had only ever felt right with Lou. Debbie had one arm around Lou’s back. Her other arm hung loosely at her side, hand clutched around the top of a bag full of pastries. Lou was dressed in black leather pants, a matching vest, and her usual tangle of necklaces. Debbie was wearing a denim sundress that buttoned all the way down the front to the hem just above her knees. She had undone the top few buttons for Lou’s benefit, and the edge of her white, lacy bra peeked through just enough to tantalize.

Looking closely at the photo, Debbie found that she could almost feel the heat of the Paris summer, could almost smell the stolen Armani perfume on both of their necks, could _almost_ feel Lou’s hand resting just below her breasts. Debbie stared at the image and willed it to fill her mind. It was all she had, but it was never enough. She should have been back with Lou tonight, should have been sitting across the table from her sharing Chinese food and wearing lingerie. Instead she was stuck in this horrible, nylon jumpsuit with her stomach growling and churning.

The harsh clang of a buzzer sounded outside in the corridor, and Debbie slid the photo under her pillow. She swung her legs off the bed as Marcia did the same, picked up her toothbrush, and followed her cellmate out into the corridor to the bathroom. Debbie counted her steps, counted the other inmates, counted the cracks in the poor excuse for a mirror above the sink. She thought of nothing but numbers until she crawled back into her bed fifteen minutes later wearing her prison-issued cotton pajamas and hand-knitted socks from Tammy’s Christmas package. Debbie didn’t look at the photo of Lou, but she kept her palm over it as she closed her eyes and buried her face in her pillow. She thought of Lou’s hands resting against her ribs, her waist, her hips. She thought of Lou’s lips pressed softly against the sensitive skin just under her ear. She thought of Lou’s eyes gazing into hers, and eventually, Debbie slept.


	2. The Visit

The next morning passed very, very slowly. Debbie went about her normal routine, running on autopilot and trying not to watch the clocks ticking at a snail’s pace. She had awoken at least an hour before Marcia and turned on the phone under her pillow to find a text from Lou confirming that she had heard from the prison. _2pm, Jailbird_, said the message. It was only 11 am now, and Debbie knew that the next three hours were likely to feel nearly as long as the next three months. She also knew that the hour with Lou would probably feel like nothing more than the blink of an eye. Time was a nuisance. Debbie made her way to the gym for the hour before lunch. She needed to think and to sweat. A few people stared at her; practically everyone had expected her parole to be approved. Most people made a point of not meeting her eyes, but Debbie caught a flash of fear as they looked away. If Debbie Ocean’s parole could be denied with hardly any cause, so could theirs.

Wrapping her knuckles carefully, Debbie claimed one of the punching bags and started in on her normal routine. Her rhythms had gotten faster over the past five years, eight months, and _thirteen_ days. She had always maintained some level of athleticism because it was good to be able to run faster than most people when a job went wrong, but in prison, working out had become far more essential for her mental health rather than her physical health. The ache in her muscles, the burn in her knuckles – it kept her mind sharp. Moreover, prison offered very little by way of control over one’s body, and the gym was a tiny reprieve from that oppression. Even today, with a thousand emotions coursing through her bloodstream, Debbie lost track of time as she swung her fists methodically into the faux-leather casing of the old punching bag. When she finally stopped, her whole body felt lighter, and her mind was clear. She knew exactly what Lou needed to do to make this job work, and – more importantly – she knew exactly what to say to Lou to get her on board.

**

Lunch was as bland as usual. It tasted worse today somehow, knowing that she _should _have been out in the real world eating her fill of food-cart hot dogs and sushi. Marcia smiled sympathetically at her over her own plate as Debbie pushed the food around with her fork.

“You should eat, Ocean,” she said kindly. “You’ll need your strength for that unsupervised visit.” She cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

Debbie scoffed, but the humor did make her feel slightly better. She took a bite of mashed potatoes and peas. “I don’t think there’ll be any…activities,” she said thickly around her food.

Marcia wrinkled her nose. “You have a seriously bad habit of talking with your mouth full.” She pointed an accusatory forkful of food in Debbie’s direction.

Debbie swallowed and sipped from her glass of water. “God, those potatoes are dry. Anyway, I don’t think there’ll be any of…_that_.”

“Hey, don’t rule it out,” Marcia said.

“No, I _am _ruling it out,” Debbie shot back. “Lou and I have waited ten years. I think we can wait another three months for an actual _bed_. Besides this…” She tugged at the collar of her jumpsuit. “…is not sexy.”

“Fuck off, Ocean,” Marcia said, with another pointed gesture with her fork. “You’re hot as shit, and you know it.”

Debbie rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair with her arms crossed. She felt herself smiling, though. Somehow the knowledge that she _wanted_ Lou to see her, even like this, was highly comforting.

“I better be invited to your wedding,” Marcia said, nudging Debbie’s shin under the table with her toe.

Debbie scoffed again. “There’s no _actual _wedding…I’m not…_We’re_ not…”

“Yeah, yeah. I _know_,” Marcia shook her head in disbelief at Debbie’s coyness. “Tell me this, Ocean,” she said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “If she asked you, what would you say?”

“She’s not going to ask me.”

“_If_ she asked y—”

“Fine. I’d say yes,” Debbie said, throwing her hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’d. Say. Yes. Happy?”

Marcia shot her a very smug look as she slowly chewed another bite of food.

Debbie blushed and let her hands drop to her lap. “I’d say yes,” she said again softly, “But I know she won’t ask…at least, not…not yet.” She looked back up at Marcia. “It’s been ten years, you know?”

Marcia nodded at Debbie, serious now. “I know. You’ve got some shit to work out.”

Debbie nodded pensively and finished her glass of water.

“Just promise me you’ll actually _try _to admit your feelings?”

“Yeah,” Debbie said. “You got it.”

**

Debbie requested the opportunity to shower and change into a fresh uniform before her visit with Lou, and – somewhat to her surprise – the request was granted. Once again, she had a feeling Dina may have been involved because when she arrived in the showers, she found a bottle of rose-scented 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner that was _certainly _not prison-issued. It felt luxurious to actually wash her hair with something half-way decent even though the water only stayed hot for three minutes. The showers always made her a bit nervous. She had been shivved a year into her sentence by someone Danny had told her to avoid. Every time Debbie looked at the damp, tile floor, she couldn’t help but remember the way her blood pooled in the water. She felt safe now, especially with Dina keeping an eye out and far fewer enemies of the Oceans nearby. Still, almost dying wasn't something that anyone easily forgot.

She had been told to return to her cell after cleaning up to wait for her escort to the visiting chamber. Marcia was on work assignment again, so Debbie hid her contraband phone behind one of the books from Tammy. She still had about forty-five minutes to wait, but there was plenty she could do in that amount of time. She wanted to make sure that Lou’s visit wasn’t entirely taken up with business matters, so she began the rather painstaking task of translating her coded plan into a _different_ coded plan that Lou would be able to follow. The first step stayed the same: “Be FF?” Debbie fiddled with the rest of the steps until they seemed both innocuous and comprehensible, added a caption that simply said “next,” and sent the message. She knew Lou was probably driving here by now (and that thought made Debbie’s stomach flip pleasurably), but the point was that the list would be in Lou’s phone when they needed it. She turned off the phone as soon as the message sent and lay back on the bed to wait. Her whole body felt like a lightning rod, unsure what she would feel when she saw Lou. Would she fall apart? Would she play it cool? There was no way to know until she saw her, and the anticipation felt like a very slow death.

The clang of her cell door alerted Debbie to the presence of two guards, neither of whom was particularly familiar to her. She felt detached from her body as they led her through the corridors to an unfamiliar visiting area. She had never had an unsupervised visit before. The room was a bit friendlier than she anticipated. There was a couch against one wall with horrible floral upholstery. The fabric appeared to have been clawed by a cat at some point in the distant past. Debbie suspected it had come from a garage sale. A decades-old television sat on a rickety stand on the other side of the room. A few DVDs of cartoons lay next to it – _Arthur _(she recognized it from her last visit to Tammy’s house nearly seven years ago)_, _and something about a tiger that Debbie didn’t recognize because it had probably come out after the start of her sentence. Tammy would probably recognize _that _as well – probably all _too_ well. Clearly this was mostly used for children’s visits with their parents. Marcia had probably been here before to see her daughter and husband. Debbie had expected something like the cold cell-like room where Lou had visited before. The fact that they wouldn’t have to sit with a table between them made her feel calmer. The guards stood just inside the door. Debbie wished they would leave before Lou’s arrival, just so she would have a moment of solitude to prepare herself, but she knew they wouldn’t. One of the guards gestured to a hard chair next to the couch, and she sat in it, hoping against hope that Lou wouldn’t be late.

Barely a minute later, the door on the opposite side of the room opened and Lou walked in, accompanied by an administrative employee wearing a well-tailored, navy skirt-suit. Debbie stood up from her chair, feeling a desperate need to seem steady and calm until she was sure they were alone. They stared at each other awkwardly as Debbie heard the guards behind her turn to leave and watched the woman behind Lou shut the door behind her. 

“You have an hour, Miss Ocean,” one of the guards muttered just before the door slammed shut, but she barely heard him. Her entire mind was focused on Lou. She looked _good_. Three years ago, Lou had been thin – almost emaciated – and worn around the edges. Debbie knew that Lou had taken her incarceration hard, and the last time Debbie had seen her had been mere weeks after Lou had cleaned up her act. Now, she was more put together, more professional. She wore a band T-shirt under a gray blazer, and her plum leather pants would have looked garish on almost anyone else. Debbie barely had time to give her a once-over before Lou had crossed the space between them and enveloped Debbie in a crushing hug that squeezed all of the breath out of her lungs.

“Hey, hey, take it easy!” Debbie pretended to protest. Her voice was muffled in Lou’s collarbone. “I’m still in the slammer.”

Lou only clung tighter. “You _shouldn’t _be,” she said.

Debbie felt the words vibrate against her temple. Lou was wearing heels (as usual), and that meant she was a good six inches taller than Debbie today. It was a stupid, frivolous thing, but it made Debbie miss the real world and its infinite variety of shoes. She took a deep breath of Lou’s perfume, and nuzzled her face deeper into Lou’s neck. “No, baby,” Debbie agreed at last through a sigh. “I shouldn’t be.”

Debbie couldn’t remember the last time she had been held like this. They had managed a brief hug during Lou’s previous visit, but this was deeper than that. It was almost too much, to be wrapped in Lou so completely after so many years apart. Debbie felt lightheaded and overwhelmed, but she made no effort to remove herself from Lou’s arms. She hadn’t been this warm in ten years. Eventually, Lou pulled away just enough to pull Debbie to the tattered couch. Debbie tried to smile at her, but she got a bit lost in Lou’s eyes, which were now piercing her with their usual intensity.

Debbie cleared her throat. She wasn’t quite ready to talk about _them_ yet, so it was better to get the business out of the way. “Did you get the credit line?”

“Not yet,” Lou said softly, tucking a piece of hair behind Debbie’s ear.

“Why not?” Debbie asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Because I don’t know what it’s for,” Lou said with a half-smile that Debbie wanted to taste. She didn’t, though. She could wait. Instead, she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I sent you a message,” Debbie said. She wasn’t sure to what extent these rooms were monitored, and she wasn’t going to take any chances by speaking more plainly.

Lou looked confused. “Debbie…”

“You can do it,” Debbie said firmly. She slid two newspaper articles from her jumpsuit pocket. Each one was carefully folded to ensure that neither headline was eye-catching. The first one was a short, bland story about the history of Cartier from an issue of the New York Times style section four years ago. The second was a much more recent article detailing the plans for this year’s Met Ball. Debbie trusted Lou to put two-and-two together. Everything else was coded in her text.

Lou shook her head. “See, this is what you do…”

“What?” Debbie asked innocently.

“You give me _hints_, and then I’m interested, and then _you _think because I’m interested that I want to d—”

“Shh.” Debbie raised a finger to Lou’s lips. “Given the circumstances, you don’t have to give me an answer right away. In fact, I’d rather…talk about something else. Just…think about it?” She traced Lou’s bottom lip with the tip of her finger and then trailed it along her jawline.

Lou shrugged noncommittally, but she took the articles and slid them both into her bra. Debbie found it difficult to look away from the place where they had disappeared. Her mouth had gone very dry, and she had to clear her throat and blink rapidly to pull herself back together.

“Let me know by tonight,” she said. “Okay?”

Lou sighed and gave her a hard look. “Okay.”

“I didn’t want it to be this way, you know?” Debbie said after a moment. She reached out and took Lou’s hand.

“What, you didn’t want to…_do _anything from in here?” Lou gestured at the eggshell-colored cinderblocks surrounding them.

“Well, no, I didn’t,” Debbie said with a smile and a squeeze of Lou’s hand, “but I wasn’t talking about…work. I meant…seeing you. I…” She trailed off and dropped her gaze to their entwined fingers.

“It was supposed to be different?”

“Yeah.”

Lou nodded and angled her body into Debbie’s on the couch, playing with Debbie’s fingers. “So…” she said.

“So.” Debbie’s eyes found Lou’s once more. She saw Lou’s gaze drop to her lips, and she felt herself lean forward. She didn’t know how much time they had left, but she didn’t much care – not when Lou was looking at her like that. Lou disentangled her fingers from Debbie’s and passed her hands gently up her arms and over her shoulders, finally coming to rest cupping Debbie’s jaw. Debbie felt her heart racing out of control, and she knew Lou could feel it, too. Lou licked her lips, and Debbie’s focus zeroed in on her mouth.

“May I…?” Lou asked. Debbie sensed caution that mirrored her own in the question. Would it make their inevitable parting too unbearable if they closed the gap between them? Whether it did or not, Debbie was willing to find out. She knew that if she didn’t, she would spend the next three months wishing that she had.

“God, yes,” Debbie murmured, her lips already brushing against Lou’s.

Debbie had thought that her memories of kissing Lou had been fairly accurate, but it took less than ten seconds for her to realize that even the most vivid of her daydreams were _nothing_ compared to the real thing. It started warm and soft, a reacquaintance with something achingly familiar. Lou’s lips tasted like mint gum and cigarettes, and the flavor felt like a drug, something Debbie had forgotten she was addicted to. Lou’s hands strayed to the back of Debbie’s neck, pulling her closer, and Debbie felt herself melting. She surrendered completely under Lou’s hands and mouth, willingly letting go of all control for the first time in ten years. Dimly, Debbie was aware of soft noises issuing from her own throat – whimpers and moans that Lou swallowed like air. Her hands tangled in Lou’s necklaces, tugging her even closer.

“Fuck,” Lou breathed shakily when they finally broke for air a few minutes later.

Debbie couldn’t speak. She leaned her forehead into Lou’s and felt hot tears behind her eyes. For the first time in her life, she found that she didn’t much care whether they fell or not; she didn’t care if Lou saw her cry. Lou’s skin was warm and solid under her wandering fingers and against her forehead, but Debbie’s mind was struggling to stay in the moment. _Ten years_, she thought. _Ten years. How could we have possibly…? _

“You okay, honey?” Lou asked softly, running her fingers through Debbie’s hair.

“Yeah, I’m…” Debbie began, but she realized it was a lie, and she didn’t _want _to lie to Lou. She shook her head. “No,” she breathed against Lou’s cheek, pulling back enough to look into her eyes. “No, baby, I’m not okay. I _will _be okay, but I…” Lou kept moving her fingers, stroking over Debbie’s scalp and sending tingles down her spine. “I…forgot how much…” Debbie started again. She squeezed her eyes shut against the brilliance that was staring back at her.

“I missed you, too, Jailbird,” Lou said, tilting Debbie’s head forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you.”

“How much…?” Debbie’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “How much time do we have?”

Lou glanced down at her watch. “Half an hour.”

Debbie sighed shakily and leaned further into Lou, resting her head on her shoulder.

“I could break you out, you know,” Lou said casually.

Debbie smiled against Lou’s skin but said nothing.

“I just heard about an amazing hacker, and—”

“No,” Debbie said, interrupting her. “Don’t tempt me. I don’t want to be on the run when I get out. You don’t deserve that.”

“Does that mean you’re planning to stick around?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

Lou hummed a laugh. “Touché.”

Debbie wrapped her arms around Lou’s waist and traced patterns on her back under her blazer. “I…I want you to stay,” she admitted quietly. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Lou was silent for long time, but Debbie felt her smile against the side of her head. “Why do you need to do it?” Lou asked. “The job.” Her voice was practically inaudible and her lips moved against the shell of Debbie’s ear.

Debbie sat up and looked her dead in the eye, keeping her arms locked tight around her waist. “Because it’s what I’m good at.”

“Yeah…” Lou said, narrowing her eyes and waiting for Debbie to explain.

“Look,” Debbie said, “I know it’ll work.” She had run the job a thousand times in her head, fixed every snag. It ran like clockwork, but only if…Debbie swallowed, very aware of how crucial Lou’s answer was going to be. “I _promise_ it’ll work” she reiterated, “but only if you’re there with me every step of the way.”

“Oh, honey, is this a proposal?” Lou asked with a mischievous grin and a cocked eyebrow.

“Baby, I don’t have a diamond yet,” Debbie shot back. She leaned forward slowly until her lips brushed the skin just below Lou’s ear. She felt Lou shiver. “You think you can get some for me?” she asked in a sing-song murmur.

“I guess we’ll see,” Lou replied with a wink as Debbie pulled away once more to look at her. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Debbie smiled and nodded slowly. “By tonight?”

“By tonight,” Lou agreed. “And I didn’t get you that phone for nothing, you know,” Lou went on. “You better start using it.”

“Count on it.” Debbie sighed. The minutes were ticking by, and she didn’t want to waste any more time talking about the job. Lou was far more important than that. She toyed with the lapel of Lou’s blazer, trying to think of something to say, but it was Lou who broke the silence. 

“Are you…okay in here, Debbie?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I know it’s different now, because you _should _be out, but—”

“I’m okay, Lou,” Debbie said firmly, meeting her eyes to convey her honesty. “I am. Yesterday was rough, and it was hard in the beginning…” She swallowed, deciding not to tell Lou about getting stabbed in the showers. That could wait until she was out. She didn’t want Lou to worry, and she didn’t want to mar this time together. “…it _was _hard, but the last year or so hasn’t been too bad. My cellmate is decent – _more _than decent really.”

Lou raised her eyebrows suggestively, and her mouth twitched.

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Not like _that_. Get your mind out of the gutter. We tried to fuck once and ended up crying together over the people we actually _wanted _to be with. I told her about you; she told me about her husband. It was…nice. We have each other’s backs.”

Lou smiled, averting her gaze from Debbie’s as a faint blush arose on her cheeks. “What’d you say about me, Jailbird?” she asked, teasing and gentle.

Debbie rolled her head back and grinned at the ceiling. “Well, I said we were business partners…”

Lou snorted.

“…and I said we were…together. I showed her the picture of us in Paris, and now she calls you my rock-chick Australian girlfriend.”

“Ah, so you mentioned how sexy you find my accent?” 

Debbie frowned good-naturedly. “It…might have come up.” She was glad Lou had chosen not to comment on the term _girlfriend_; it didn’t quite describe _them _after all.

Lou laughed softly and shook her head. “Never thought you’d admit to crying over me, Debs.”

“Yeah, well, it was one or two very small tears, and prison is weird. I probably wouldn’t have even told you if I’d been paroled.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, I think we would have been too busy with other things, don’t you?” Debbie tilted her head as she spoke, eyes darting over Lou’s face. “There wouldn’t have been much time for sentiment.”

Lou hummed her agreement as she leaned forward to kiss Debbie once more. Debbie nibbled her lower lip, and slipped her tongue into Lou’s mouth, taking more control than she had the first time. After a moment, Lou’s hands fell to Debbie’s hips, thumbs digging into sensitive skin. Debbie gasped, and Lou took the opportunity to tilt her head and leave a trail of wet kisses down Debbie’s neck.

“Oh, _fuck_, Lou…” Debbie muttered as Lou pulled the collar of her jumpsuit to the side and sucked hard at the join between her neck and shoulder.

“Just a souvenir,” Lou said innocently between kisses as she made her way back to Debbie’s mouth.

“As if I could _forget_…” Debbie replied breathlessly.

Lou kissed her more tenderly now, letting the heat between them soften. Debbie didn’t want her to ever stop. In that moment, Debbie would have gladly foregone the job if she could only leave here with Lou. It was a fleeting sensation, and barely a minute passed before her Ocean spirit took hold again and reminded her of her brilliant plan that _couldn’t_ go to waste. Still, it was good to know that she _could_ – at times – feel something more…human? primal? visceral? romantic? than the call of a good job.

“How much time do we have?” Debbie asked when they came up for air.

“Twenty minutes,” Lou replied.

Debbie furrowed her brow. “It can’t have been only ten minutes since I last asked.”

“It wasn’t,” Lou informed her, matter-of-factly. “I lied the first time, said there was less time than there was so that it would feel like we had extra time at the end.”

Debbie stared at her, slightly impressed. “You…conned me.”

“Yeah, I did,” Lou said, somewhat smugly, settling her back against the couch cushions and pulling Debbie against her.

Debbie buried her face in the crook of Lou’s neck, breathing steadily and deeply, willing the next twenty minutes to pass slowly. Lou wrapped her arms around Debbie’s shoulders and held her tightly. There wasn’t really anything more to be said, not until Lou made her decision about the job. Debbie was about ninety-five percent sure she would be on board, once her questions were answered. It was comforting to know that the smuggled phone was waiting for her back in her cell. Even though it had been there for years, it hadn’t really meant anything before now.

“Can you arrange another visit?” Lou asked softly, almost tentatively.

“Not sure,” Debbie mumbled against her neck. “I got this one out of a sob story about wanting to ask you to marry me.”

“Nice. Glad they fell for it.”

“Me too.” Debbie sighed as Lou rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back. 

“You’re my girl, Debs,” Lou murmured, turning her head so her lips brushed Debbie’s hairline. Debbie tensed for a moment. It hadn’t really been said before; not like that. They hadn’t ever thought to define their relationship, but now – with ten years of separation behind them and the sharp denial of Debbie’s parole fresh in their minds – there was no use pretending any more. 

“Yeah,” Debbie said, fully relaxing once more into Lou’s warmth. “I am.” It made her heart swell to admit it at last.

“No matter what, okay?” Lou said. “Even if I hate the job.”

Debbie smiled against Lou’s skin. “Okay…but you won’t. I _know _you won’t.”

Lou chuckled fondly at the surety of Debbie’s tone. “We can make it three months, Jailbird,” she said after a moment.

“Yeah, we can.”

“I’ll miss you, though, Debs. Every day.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

It was silent again. Debbie felt a lump rise in her throat, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to cry this late in their visit because she knew it would be too hard to stop. The gentle rise and fall of Lou’s chest against her own felt like a promise. Lou’s heart beat a steady, steady rhythm, and Debbie tried to memorize it. She needed something to hold onto for the next three months. All too soon, the door opened on the prison side of the room, and two guards entered. Debbie was pleased that one of them was Dina, but it was hard to peel herself away from Lou.

“It’s okay, Debbie,” Lou said softly.

Debbie nodded. They stood up together, and Debbie wrapped her arms once more around Lou’s waist.

“Hey, I’ll see you soon, alright?” Lou whispered, stoking her hair. Debbie could feel tension in Lou’s muscles and hear a slight tremor in her voice. She was grateful that Lou was trying to keep herself together for her sake, but she _ached_ for her nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” Debbie muttered, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she apologizing for: Claude Becker? Going to prison? The next three months?

“No, Debs,” Lou said gently, as they pulled apart. “Not that, alright. I’m okay.” She sighed and cupped Debbie’s cheek. “I’m glad I could…see you. Really. It…helps.”

Debbie nodded and leaned up to kiss Lou one last time.

“Come on, Ocean,” Dina said in a kind, though authoritative, voice.

Debbie took a few steps back from Lou, clutching her hand until she couldn’t reach it anymore. She tried not to blink, tried to keep her eyes fixed on Lou’s, which were overly bright with unshed tears. “Drive safe, okay?” Debbie said casually, managing a wink and a small wave.

“Always,” Lou said through a strained smile. “Always.”

The door slammed closed, and Debbie was back to the familiar, loathsome corridors of the prison, following Dina back to her cell. She felt exhausted as the aching sensation in her chest grew more present. This felt wrong; walking away from Lou felt so, _so_ wrong. She hadn’t actually said good-bye, and she wished she had. She hadn’t told her she loved her, and she did. She_ did_. Debbie almost stopped walking as _that_ realization washed over her. It wasn’t the sort of thing she could say in a cryptic text message, not for the first time. No, that would have to wait.

“Normal routine starts back up tomorrow,” Dina said as they reached Debbie’s cell. She waited for the other guard to walk away. “You can relax the rest of the evening; already got you approved,” she went on once there was no one else in ear shot.

“Thanks,” Debbie said blankly.

“She’ll be there when you get out.”

“I know.”

Debbie sank down on her bed as Dina walked away. Marcia was still on work assignment, just as she had been yesterday around this same time when Debbie had sat and waited for the question of her parole to be decided. Everything had seemed so certain then. She felt like it had been days since her conversation with Marcia at lunch. _Just promise me you’ll actually _try _to admit your feelings_, Marcia had said. Debbie shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself. She _had _taken Marcia’s advice, had finally admitted (only to herself, but _still…_) that she was in love with Lou. It was the first step, Debbie supposed, something to ensure she didn’t fuck this up again once she got out.

She turned on the phone and held it in her hand under the pillow, knowing Lou wouldn’t keep her waiting once she had time to put together the pieces of the plan. Debbie fell in and out of daydreams, thinking of Lou, trying to pin down exactly when it was that she fell in love with her all those years ago. How could she not have realized?

Was it ten years ago when they were short on cash and rigging Bingo in New Jersey? Debbie had fought the flu on and off for two months, and Lou had been there to force Tylenol down her throat and steal cough drops from CVS. Was it on the trip to Paris after Tammy retired? It had been just the two of them for a fortnight, stealing perfume and wine, kissing in the dark by the Seine with Lou’s hand up her skirt. Was it the first time Debbie spent the night in Lou’s tiny apartment in the Bronx? They had just run their first job together, but the sweet taste of success was nothing to the taste of Bourbon on Lou’s tongue. That first night together…Debbie dug her fingernails into her palms, remembering Lou guiding her hand between her legs and whispering “I’ve never wanted anyone inside me before you.” Was _that_ the moment? _Nineteen years ago_, Debbie thought. _Nineteen years. _

Debbie kept her breathing steady, but she felt a few tears slide from her eyes to the pillow, dampening the cheap fabric. Eventually, the phone buzzed, and Debbie’s pulse raced as she unlocked the screen.

_Be FF? Be FF. I’m in jlbrd. <3 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to everyone who is reading this! I will be posting updates on Sundays going forward. :) <3


	3. Piece by Piece

It took Lou several weeks to gather everything and everyone they needed. It felt strange to be running a full-on, Ocean-level con without an actual _Ocean _physically present. Debbie made herself known through little flourishes she insisted would pay off later. Lou didn’t understand most of them. Debbie had a head for numbers, and if she said that Rose Weil (whose name and information Lou had found within two days) had to be approached _exactly _thirteen minutes into her disastrous show at the TWA Lounge, then Lou believed her. Of the two of them, Lou had always been better with people. That was mostly because she actually viewed them _as _people, rather than as vehicles for brains that could – with skill and a little luck – be manipulated to fit one’s needs. Lou could talk anyone off a ledge without prior planning; Debbie practically needed a script.

Through her list and a few additional cryptic text messages, Debbie passed Lou the contact information for Amita and explained how to get Daphne Kluger [inadvertently] on board. Lou was responsible for finding Rose, in addition to a pick-pocket, a hacker, and a fence. She knew Debbie trusted her though. Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure that _trust_ was the right word – the understanding between them was far more profound than that, but Lou wished she could sit across from Debbie and run the names of Russian hackers by her one by one, wished she was walking beside her as she strode through Queens to find Constance, whom she had only met once. Sometimes at the end of the day she imagined coming home to find Debbie waiting for her, ready to compare notes before starting on the next stage of the plan.

Finally, there was only one open position left on her list, and Lou was relieved that – even though the only person she _really_ wanted to see wouldn’t be there – at least the loft wouldn’t be so goddamn quiet by tomorrow afternoon. Taking advantage of the gradually warming spring weather, Lou took her bike up to Tammy’s house in Westchester County. The drive was pleasant, but it was hard to stop her mind from imagining the feeling of Debbie’s thighs around her hips and her helmeted head digging into Lou’s back. She had missed Debbie for ten years, but now it felt different: better and worse at the same time. It was better because she knew how to handle it after so many years, _and _she knew that Debbie really was coming home soon. It was worse because _soon_ just wasn’t quite soon enough.

Lou parked at the elementary school a block away from Tammy’s and locked her gear inside the bike’s small storage compartment. She felt distinctly out of place walking down the quiet suburban street, her heeled boots clacking on the perfectly maintained cement. Tammy’s garage was easy to get into – well, easy for Lou, or for Debbie, if she had been there – Lou felt another pang in her chest at the thought of her. Lou could hear the sound of a blender from inside the house. She looked around at the stacks and stacks of boxes and grinned nostalgically. Tammy had always had a knack for flying under the radar, but the fact that she had hid all this was impressive even by her standards. Lou pulled out her phone and checked her messages. There was a brief one from Debbie: _try flirting with her_. Lou rolled her eyes as she swiped the messaging screen away and pulled up Tammy’s contact information. The phone rang twice before Tammy picked up.

“Lou, what’s up? Can’t really talk right now. I’m—”

“I’m in your garage.”

“…What? _Why?_”

Lou hung up the phone and waited. She pulled a lollipop out of an enormous container full of them, unwrapped it, and stuck it in her cheek. She wanted a cigarette, but smoking in Tammy’s garage would all but ensure Tammy’s refusal. Tammy emerged a few minutes later, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Lou, what the fuck?” Tammy said harshly, as she came around a corner in the rows of boxes. “What are you doing out here?”

“And hello to you, too,” Lou said sweetly, turning away from examining a shelf of Louis Vuitton suitcases.

Tammy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Seriously, what are you doing? Wasn’t Debbie supposed to be getting out on par—?”

“She didn’t,” Lou said sharply, giving Tammy a hard look.

“Oh.” Tammy looked both concerned and relieved.

Lou smirked internally. She let her gaze travel over the boxes around them. “Look at all this,” she mused. “I thought you retired.”

“I did,” Tammy said defensively.

“Not as exciting as hijacking trucks that are smuggling dishwashers from Canada, right?” Lou leaned against the wall of suitcases and reached up a hand to toy with a luggage tag. She sucked her lollipop with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, well, I don’t do that anymore,” Tammy said firmly.

“But you were so very good at it—”

“Okay, stop,” Tammy said, holding up her hands. “Those are Debbie’s words. You’re working for her again, aren’t you?”

Lou frowned over-exaggeratedly. “More like _with_—”

“Seriously? You’re going to play this game with me?”

Lou grimaced. Tammy was right. Lou _owed_ her. Tammy had helped her get her life back together after she spent three years destroying it in the wake of Debbie’s imprisonment. “Fine,” Lou said, holding up her hands in surrender and speaking around the lollipop in her mouth. “Sorry.”

Tammy sighed. “What do you want? Or…” Tammy paused and tilted her head somewhat mockingly. “…what does _Debbie _want?”

Lou pushed herself away from the shelf of suitcases and crossed the short distance between them to lean against a stack of boxes beside Tammy. “We need a fence,” Lou said simply.

“I told you – I told _Debbie_ – that I don’t do that anymore. I’m _out_, Lou.” There was the slightest hint of wistfulness in her tone, and Lou smiled internally.

“It’s a big job,” she said in a tantalizing tone, shifting her shoulders so as not to tower over Tammy.

“I don’t care,” Tammy replied, matching her sing-song voice. Lou scoffed and looked away. It was silent for a moment. She could almost feel Tammy’s pulse quickening.

“You want me to tell you how big the job is?”

“No,” Tammy answered far too quickly. “No, I _really_ don’t.”

Lou shrugged. “I think I’m gonna tell y—”

“_Lou_,” Tammy cautioned in her sweetest suburban-housewife voice, “if you keep using Debbie Ocean’s scripts on me I will force you to babysit my children.”

Lou groaned and threw her head back against the boxes. “You’re good, Tim-Tam.”

“I am, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out when it’s Debbie talking with your mouth.” Tammy jabbed a finger towards her lips, which were once again wrapped around the lollipop. 

Lou pulled the candy out of her mouth with a loud *pop*. “Sixteen million,” Lou said, jumping right to the chase and dropping her act. “At least,” she added for good measure. If they got the crown jewels too, then the payout could easily be more than twice that, but she couldn’t tell Tammy about that yet. 

“What?” Tammy asked, taken aback.

Lou picked at her thumbnail absentmindedly. “You heard m—”

“Mommy, when’s dinner ready?” The voice of Tammy’s daughter rang through the garage.

“Shit,” Tammy whispered. Lou bent her knees to ensure that she was completely hidden behind the boxes. “Uh…sweetheart,” Tammy called to her daughter, “I’ll be right there. I’m so sorry. Mommy will be right there.”

Lou stifled a laugh at Tammy’s baby talk. Tammy made to put a hand over Lou’s mouth, but Lou dodged it with a grin.

“But I’m hungry,” the little girl insisted. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Tammy said. “I promise, I’ll be right there.”

Lou rolled her eyes.

“Thanks a lot,” Tammy said sarcastically as they heard soft footsteps tread their way back indoors.

“She sounds sweet,” Lou said with a shrug.

“Well, you would know that she _is _sweet if you ever bothered to accept my dinner invitations.”

Lou gave her a small smile. “This isn’t really my scene, Tim-Tam. You know that.”

“Yeah, I suppose not,” Tammy shifted so she was facing Lou, giving her a searching look. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Lou ran her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking about when she had asked Debbie a similar question. “I…love her, Tammy,” she answered finally.

“Hm.” Tammy furrowed her brow. “That’s not exactly an answer to my question.” She paused. “Tell me you know what you’re doing.”

Lou shook her head once, looking away from Tammy and staring unseeingly at a pile of SodaStream boxes. “I never know what I’m doing,” she replied at last. “That’s why we work.” She turned back to Tammy, who was still searching her face for answers. “That’s why Debbie and I are…” She trailed off. 

“Are you ever going to be able to finish that sentence?” Tammy asked pointedly, eyebrows raised.

Lou considered the question. She thought about the way Debbie had clung to her during her unsupervised visit. Warmth spread through her, and a lump rose in her throat. “Yeah, after this – when Debbie’s back – I…I think I will,” Lou said seriously, almost taking herself by surprise at how sure she felt.

Tammy nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact.

“So,” Lou began when Tammy showed no signs of speaking. “Are you in?”

Tammy sighed. “I’m in,” she said finally, “but it’s for myself, not for you or for Debbie. I’m bored as hell.”

“Thought so,” Lou said with a grin. She pointed her lollipop at Tammy. “I’ll see you tomorrow at my place – one o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.”

**

April passed swiftly as each piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Nine Ball seemed to have no trouble assembling the necessary equipment to hack into the Met system, Tammy infiltrated Vogue with an ease that only came with experience, Amita spent almost all of her time forging zirconium replacement jewels in one of the backrooms of the warehouse, Constance memorized everything so quickly that Lou suspected she had a photographic memory, and Lou explained each piece of the plan with Ocean-inspired precision. Rose was the only weak point. Lou liked her, but the woman was more anxious than she looked and with her two sets of glasses, frazzled hair, and copious consumption of Nutella, that was _really _saying something. It was becoming clear that Debbie’s plan B, which involved bringing Daphne Kluger in on the plan shortly after the Gala, would probably need to be pulled out and brushed off. Still, everything was running more or less according to plan, and Lou was pleased.

Lou was also lonely. She had thought that having the loft full of people would provide an adequate distraction from her preoccupation with Debbie. When it came down to it however, stepping into Debbie’s limelight to explain the plan and coach everyone through their parts in it only made Lou miss her more. She updated Debbie with every new development, keeping her texts brief and coded, but it was so impersonal that she almost stopped.

Watching Nine Ball clean their footprint in preparation for hacking the Met security system was one of the most impressive feats Lou had ever seen, but it also gave her an idea.

“Hey,” Lou said, walking over to Nine’s perch on the couch in the corner next to Lou’s Polaroid collage. Most of the photos were of her and Debbie, and looking at them sent another pang of loneliness through her chest. 

Nine looked up at her through a haze of smoke and raised her eyebrows. She gestured to the seat beside her. Lou sat down, and Nine passed her the blunt.

Lou took a hit and sank into the cushions, blowing smoke up towards the low ceiling. “Can you secure the connection between my and Debbie’s phones?” she asked in a quiet voice. Everyone else was scattered around, working hard on their various tasks. She didn’t want to disturb them.

Nine Ball nodded slowly as she took the blunt back from Lou. “Yeah, no problem. Can I see your phone?” 

Lou handed it over and watched carefully as Nine popped out the SIM card and hooked it up to her computer. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. 

“Here,” Nine said, handing the blunt back to Lou without taking her eyes from her computer screen. “Help yourself. This’ll take a second.”

Lou watched, fascinated by the speed at which Nine’s fingers moved over the keyboard.

A few minutes later, Nine replaced the SIM card in Lou’s phone and handed it back to her. “It’s the same number and everythin’. I hacked into boss lady’s phone through yours. Hers is all taken care of too. The only person who can see what you send is me, and that’s only if I want to…which I don’t.”

Lou raised her eyebrows, impressed. She handed the blunt back to Nine and twirled her phone between her fingers. “Thanks,” she said.

“Just keep the nudes to a minimum, okay? Photos take up a lot of storage space.”

Lou felt heat rise in her cheeks. “This is strictly professional,” she insisted as she stood up.

“Whatever you say,” Nine replied, shaking her head and turning back to her computer.

Lou slipped upstairs to her bedroom without speaking to anyone else. Her heart was beating hard in her throat, and her fingers shook slightly as she pulled up Debbie’s message thread. She ran her fingers through her hair, twisting a few strands absentmindedly as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Debbie wasn’t generally sentimental or romantic. She was affectionate and flirtatious, but her air of being above human emotion was part of her charm. All of that meant that trying to have a serious _personal_ conversation with her over text messaging (or even through a phone call) was sometimes difficult. Touch was Debbie’s language, and without physical proximity, Lou knew that Debbie might seem cold. Nevertheless, she was willing to risk a somewhat harsh version of Debbie if it meant being able to talk about something other than the job.

Lou checked the time and saw that Debbie would be back in her cell for the night. It was the only time they could be guaranteed an actual conversation without being interrupted. Debbie had assured her that her cellmate wouldn’t rat her out, and Lou trusted her. Taking a deep breath, Lou began to type:

_9 got the phone line secured, jlbrd. We can speak freely, and she said she won't read the messages. _Lou laid back against the pillows at the head of her bed to wait for Debbie’s reply, feeling relieved that she had at least gotten up the courage to say _something_.

_Good. I was running out of code ideas. _Lou sensed true relief in Debbie’s response. She smiled softly to herself.

_She said no photos tho. Too much storage space. _

_That’s a shame. _Debbie’s reply was quick, and it made Lou’s blood sing.

She debated whether or not to tug on the thread Debbie had pulled loose. She decided she couldn’t let it sit there. _Why’s that? _she wrote.

_The prison pjs r very flattering. _

_Really?_

_No._

Lou hummed a quiet laugh to the empty room. Debbie seemed to be in a good mood. Maybe she had needed this just as much as Lou.

_I’ll miss ur pics tho, _Debbie continued.

Lou’s mouth went slightly dry. This wasn’t really the direction she expected the conversation to take, not when they hadn’t actually slept together for ten years. She turned over onto her stomach as she thought of a reply. _I am skilled in that area, _she typed coyly.

_I’ll just have to use my imagination. _

Lou squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the images flashing before her eyes. She wasn’t sure if Debbie was teasing her or if there was some truth hidden beneath the words. Remembering what Debbie had told her about trying to fuck Marcia and crying with her about who she actually wanted to be with – crying about _Lou_ – made Lou think that Debbie was being at least somewhat serious. _Do u do that a lot? _Lou asked.

_Think abt u? Every. Time. _

Lou didn’t have an immediate response for that. Finally, she typed, _I think abt u too_, and pressed send holding her breath.

_Obviously._

Debbie’s confidence made Lou laugh. The sound seemed to hang in the air, and the fact that Debbie was still out of reach sent a fresh wave of sadness through Lou. Her laughter died quickly. _Wish you were here, honey_, she typed.

_Wish I was too. Want u, baby. _

_I know. Soon. _Lou tried to think of something reassuring, but there really wasn’t any getting around the fact that the next six weeks were going to go by very slowly, especially after the Met Gala was over. Lou dreaded the day that she wouldn’t have the distraction of the job. 

_6 wks. _Lou could almost hear the exasperation and impatience in Debbie’s words.

_I want u too. So much, _Lou wrote. Her chest ached with wanting her. She wanted to tell Debbie she loved her, but it wasn’t right to do that over a text message for the first time. Debbie deserved a goddamn fanfare rather than the dull buzzing of a cheap phone.

_Think about me tonight, ok? ;)_

_I always think about u, _Lou responded before her brain had time to catch up to the suggestive nature of Debbie’s text.

_Louuuu_, Debbie reprimanded.

_Yeah ok sounds good. _

_I’ll think about u too. ;) ;) _

Lou groaned into her pillow, imagining Debbie’s fingers slipping silently under the waistband of her cotton prison pajamas. She wondered if Debbie was already wet just considering it. _Should we set a time?_ Lou joked, trying not to think about the heat coiling between her own thighs. 

_Sap. _

Lou smiled and then yawned. It was getting late, and she needed to be up early tomorrow to bring the fake Banksy painting to the Met.

_Don’t u have a big day tmrw? _Debbie asked as if she had read Lou’s mind.

_Thanks to u. _

_Talk tmrw night? _

_Of course_. Lou’s heart leapt at the idea of having something to look forward to. It made saying good-bye just a little easier.

_Miss u, baby._

_God, I miss u so much. _Lou let the depth of her feelings bleed through just a little. She felt a burning behind her eyes and blinked rapidly. A tear fell onto her pillow.

_Again, ur a sap_, Debbie shot back immediately.

A noise that was half-way between a sob and a laugh fought its way out of Lou’s throat.

_Goodnight, Lou xoxo_, Debbie added after a moment.

_Sleep well, Debs <3._

**

Somehow it was easier for Lou to breathe now that she knew she could talk to Debbie in the evenings. It wasn’t the same as having her home – far from it, but it helped her remember that they really were pulling off this job _together_, that they were a team. Lou could see her own improved mood rubbing off on everyone else, too. She wished Debbie could see them all. Lou had told her about them, had given her full descriptions of everyone, coded of course, long before the preliminary team meeting, but she would have paid good money to see Debbie try to have a conversation with Constance.

Some nights Lou would text with Debbie until she fell asleep, and the next morning she would awake to drool on her phone screen and garbled messages that she had attempted to type while drifting off. Debbie always said goodnight to her anyway, even if it was clear that Lou wouldn’t respond. On other nights, they would say their farewells, and Lou would lie awake for hours thinking about Debbie – her voice, her eyes, the bow of her lips. More than once she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, imagining that her own fingers were Debbie’s and letting Debbie’s name fall noisily from her lips into the rushing water. Most nights, she stayed in her bed and made herself keep quiet by biting her knuckles, drawing blood sometimes when she came hard on her other hand. Some nights, Lou cried. As Debbie reminded her, it wasn’t how it should be.

“You look exhausted,” Tammy said less than a week before the Met Ball as she arrived in the loft after the Chairman’s Dinner.

Lou shrugged as she pulled a beer from the fridge. She had given up on trying to sleep around midnight, thoughts of Debbie dancing through her mind. She didn’t feel sexy tonight; she felt sad, and she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Seriously, Lou,” Tammy persisted, coming up to her and trying to meet her eyes. “What’s going on?” She brushed Lou’s fringe to the side. Lou closed her eyes and turned her face away from her. “You’ve been crying,” Tammy concluded.

Lou shrugged again and took a few steps away from Tammy to get the bottle opener out of a drawer. “Everyone cries sometimes, Tim-Tam,” Lou said, trying to keep her voice light.

“Bullshit,” Tammy said. “The only person who cries less than you is Debbie.”

Lou couldn’t help wincing at the sound of Debbie’s name. She sipped her beer slowly. It felt soothing on her aching throat.

“Debbie?” Tammy asked, sitting down on a stool by the counter and looking across at Lou where she was leaning by the fridge.

Lou didn’t say anything; she knew Tammy had already read the truth on her face.

“Lou, she misses you,” Tammy said firmly.

“I…know,” Lou said softly. She _did _know. Debbie told her almost every night, and most nights it made her feel good. Some nights – like tonight – it just hurt. “I just…wish she was here,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” Tammy said.

“We’ve been talking,” Lou muttered, not entirely sure why she was saying anything at all. Tammy had a knack for drawing things out of people.

“You and Deb?”

Lou nodded. She picked at the corner of the label on her beer bottle, not looking at Tammy.

“And?” Tammy asked.

“Most nights it’s…really nice,” Lou said, smiling a little. “It’s the best part of my day.” She glanced up and briefly met Tammy’s eyes. “It’s just sometimes, I…”

“You miss her a lot,” Tammy finished her sentence for her. “You’ve missed her for ten years, Lou. I think it’s pretty much par for the course that you’re going to shed some tears once in a while.”

“I _love _her, Tammy.” Lou’s voice broke as she said it, and she rubbed her sleeve across her face.

Tammy knit her brow. “Yeah, you mentioned that back in my garage. I…take it you haven’t told her?”

Lou shook her head. “Not a texting conversation.”

“You could go s—”

“It’s not a _prison_ conversation, either,” Lou interrupted firmly.

Tammy nodded understandingly. Silence fell between them.

“I’m going to tell her when she gets out,” Lou said, “the _day _she gets out.”

“God, you’d better. You two have been driving me crazy for fifteen years.” Tammy smiled at her and reached across the counter for the bottle of beer Lou had set down. Lou felt better. Just saying the words aloud seemed to help. 

_I love her_, she repeated to herself. _I’m going to tell her I love her._

“How did it go tonight?” Lou asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. She was starting to feel a little sleepy, but she was still interested to hear about Tammy’s infiltration of Vogue.

“Smoothly,” Tammy said at once. “Daphne is doing everything we need her to do, and nobody batted an eye at the extra people I chose for tonight. They’re all Ocean-approved. I’ll show you the completed seating chart in the morning.” Tammy yawned as she finished speaking. 

Lou nodded and took a final swig of beer before handing the bottle to Tammy. “Here, you can have the rest,” she said. “You’ve earned it. I’m going to try to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Tammy said, “and Lou?”

Lou turned to look back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“I’m glad you’re talking to Deb.” Tammy’s smile reached all the way to her eyes, and it made Lou grin a bit wistfully. The sadness had passed for now.

“I’m glad, too,” she said. “Even when I’m fucking crying over her.” Lou swept up the stairs, feeling eternally grateful to Tammy, who had always been more emotionally savvy than herself and Debbie combined.

**

Lou awoke the next morning feeling remarkably refreshed despite only having slept for about four hours. She hummed tunelessly as she dressed, and she chose shoes that made her happy – shiny, purple ankle boots that she had found in a thrift store last Autumn. She could hear Tammy moving around in the kitchen downstairs, talking softly to someone else (probably Rose, who never seemed to really _sleep_). There was coffee and hot water for tea by the time she made it to the kitchen. She stirred milk into her tea and joined Tammy by Nine’s computer monitor where she was bringing up the updated seating chart.

Claude Becker’s name didn’t register in her brain for a second, but when it did, Lou felt her hands immediately begin to shake. She put her tea down on the end table by the sofa and tried to make sense of the emotions swirling in her chest. She took several steps away from the screen, and then turned towards the door, walking as quickly as she could out into the grey morning light. She reached the road before the tears began to prick her eyes once more. The low cinderblock wall by the water was cold against her back as Lou leaned against it, feeling smaller than she ever had in her life.

She knew better than anyone that trusting Debbie Ocean came at a price, that there was usually some part of the plan that Debbie kept to herself, just because she could. But this…Lou shook her head and kicked at the loose gravel of the beach with the toe of her boot. This was more than just a part of the job; this was playing with fire, and that had never gone well. Revenge plots and one-upmanship…_Fuck that_, Lou thought. _Too risky_. And why was Debbie so hung up on Claude anyway? Why hadn’t she told Lou that he was part of the plan? _She knew you wouldn’t like it_, a voice in Lou’s head told her. _She knew. She knew, and she did it anyway. _

Lou buried her face in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. I know this one ends in a rough spot, but I swear it will get better, and I will make good on my happy ending promise. 
> 
> Also, I love Tammy.


	4. The Arsonist

Lou jumped as a soft hand settled on her back. She looked sideways to see Tammy’s big brown eyes staring back at her, full of confusion and concern. Lou shrugged off her hand and turned away, her eyes blurring with unshed tears as she looked out at the water. 

“Debbie didn’t tell you about Claude?” Tammy asked softly.

Lou grimaced and kicked a stone towards the water. “Neither did you,” she said harshly.

“Honestly, I thought you knew,” Tammy said bluntly.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t.”

“Lou…” Tammy reached out for her, but Lou side-stepped away from her along the cinderblock wall.

“What _was _it about him?” Lou asked, voice low and rough, almost speaking to herself rather than to Tammy.

“He framed her.”

“I _know_, but this feels…different. This feels like when she was trying to impress Danny, when every job was just as much about showing off as it was about the money. It _destroyed _her, Tammy.” Lou turned her head towards Tammy at last.

Tammy looked a little anxious now. She was chewing the inside of her cheek and fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “What are you saying?” she asked.

“Why didn’t Debbie tell me? What is it about…about _him_ that meant she couldn’t tell _me _the whole plan?”

Tammy knit her brow, clearly struggling to follow Lou’s train of thought. “I…don’t know.”

“Did she…did she _love _him, Tammy?”

Tammy pressed her fingers against her temples with a tortured expression. “I don’t _know_, Lou. I—” 

“You were _there_, Tammy. Back when she was seeing him, _working _with him, you were _there_,” Lou said angrily. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

Tammy sighed. “I was _pregnant_, Lou, and then I had an _infant_. Debbie was the _least _of my problems.”

Lou scoffed. She couldn’t help herself. 

“Oh, as _if _you were there,” Tammy said sarcastically.

The words were harsh, and Lou felt she deserved them. This situation was Debbie’s fault and no one else’s. “Sorry,” she said quietly.

Tammy acknowledged her apology with a nod and straightened the sleeve of her sweater. “I…wish Debbie _had _been one of my problems. I wish we had stayed in touch more often. But…” She trailed off with a sigh.

“I told her to,” Lou said with a half-smile and an apologetic glance towards Tammy.

“Point is,” Tammy said bracingly, stepping towards Lou, “I know Claude hurt her. Somehow. When she mentioned him as a mark, I could see it in her face.”

“She’s a _very _good actress,” Lou warned.

“You know better than I do that she has a tell when she’s being honest.”

Lou grimaced, but she didn’t move away when Tammy drew close to her this time. She knew what Tammy was talking about. Debbie’s jaw always tightened in a very specific way when she was being sincere. “But why not just…let it go? Doesn’t this seem risky to you?”

Tammy shrugged. “It’s risky anyway, Lou,” she reasoned. “Never thought I’d say it, but maybe we should be glad she’s running this job from inside. Who knows what she would do if she were out? Probably march right up to his gallery and threaten him with a shiv.” 

Lou snorted in spite of herself and stared out at the bay, watching the waves and the occasional boat making its way towards the mouth of the Hudson River. Tammy was silent, leaning next to her against the rough cinderblocks. She felt calmer, and if Claude _had _hurt Debbie, then Lou understood why she wanted him locked up. Still, there was a prickling at the back of her neck that told her to walk away from the job, to walk away from Debbie. She felt overwhelmingly ashamed for even considering it. 

“You’re still not convinced, are you?” Tammy asked knowingly.

Lou winced. “I’m…not. She knew I wouldn’t like this, not without an explanation. She _knew _I would question it, but she did it anyway.”

“She should have told you,” Tammy said simply.

“Yeah.”

“You should go see her, Lou. Today.”

Lou shook her head, but she was uncertain. Seeing Debbie would doubtlessly lead to one of two outcomes: either Lou would leave feeling both stupid and completely prepared to follow through with the job, or she would leave knowing that it was all over – her and the job, her and Debbie.

“You have to give her a chance to explain, to apologize,” Tammy insisted.

Lou tried to scoff, but then she remembered the quiet “I’m sorry” that Debbie had whispered against Lou’s chest the last time she saw her. Absentmindedly, she moved her right hand to the edge of her jacket, worrying the fabric over the spot where Debbie’s mouth had brushed her skin. They weren’t dealing with _quite _the same Debbie Ocean that she had known before, not if Debbie were willing to actually voice an apology. Lou hesitated.

“I think…,” Tammy began before Lou could gather her thoughts. “I think if you walked, Debbie would give up this job. I think…” Tammy took a deep breath. “I think she would give _anything _for you, Lou.”

Lou took in the honesty on Tammy’s face in some surprise. Tammy was being serious, and Lou wasn’t sure how to handle the version of Debbie she was describing. She narrowed her eyes at Tammy. “What makes you say that?”

“Debbie’s mysterious as ever,” Tammy said. “That hasn’t changed, but…” She shook her head and looked out towards the water. Lou watched her, waiting. Her heart beat violently in her chest. Finally, Tammy turned back to her. “Her face lights up when she asks about you – it always has. Deb just…” Tammy shrugged. “She loves you. Even if she _did _love…love him…”

Lou grimaced and opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t want to think about that.

Tammy held up a hand to silence her. “Even if she _did_,” she said patiently, “I don’t think she ever stopped loving you.” 

Lou clenched her jaw against the sob that was threatening to choke her breath. She wanted to believe that Tammy was right, that Debbie loved her, had always loved her. However, … “She _lied_ to me, Tammy…by omission, but _still_…”

“She didn’t want to hurt you. You’re right; she knew you wouldn’t like bringing Claude into it. She didn’t want you to worry. Maybe it’s her weird way of showing she cares.” Tammy looked hard into Lou’s eyes as she spoke.

Lou had to admit that_ did_ sound like Debbie. She managed a strained smile in response to Tammy’s words.

“Look, I said that she loves you not that she’s _good _at it, you know?” Tammy added before Lou could respond. “She’s never been great at _feelings_.” 

Lou winced. “Yeah. Fair point,” she conceded. She rubbed her temples roughly, noticing a dull, pounding caffeine headache thanks to the undrunk cup of tea that she had left behind. “You really think I should see her?”

“Yes, I do,” Tammy said.

Lou pushed herself away from the wall and waved her arms a bit aimlessly in a gesture of surrender. “Okay,” she agreed.

Tammy flung an arm around her shoulders as they made their way back inside.

**

The receptionist at the prison was the same one as before. Today she was wearing a brown suit that was exactly the same cut as the navy one Lou had seen previously. Lou had to admit the style was flattering on her, but she didn’t envy anyone who wore the same boring clothes every day.

“I’m here to see Debbie Ocean,” Lou said. “We had an unsupervised visit before, but I don’t know whether…”

“You should be on the list, then,” the receptionist said in a bored tone. “Name?”

“Uh…Louise Miller.”

The woman nodded. “Yup, you’re on here. I’ll page someone to bring her over. You can wait over there.” She gestured to a hard metal bench in the corner.

“Thanks,” Lou said, taking a seat.

She watched the woman dial a number on her desk phone and speak quietly to someone on the other end of the line. Lou caught the word “Ocean” and shivered. It wasn’t right that these people had control over Debbie; it made her entire body prickle uncomfortably. She stared around the boring waiting room until the woman got up from her desk.

“This way, Miss Miller.” Lou got up without a word and followed her to the same door as the last time. She took a deep breath as the woman pushed it open.

Debbie looked the same, as if time hadn’t passed for her at all since Lou had last been here nearly two months ago. Lou felt blank and sad as she looked across the room at her, almost wanting to ask for a supervised visit this time, just for a buffer between herself and whatever mean and half-formed diatribes might pour from her own mouth. Even if Debbie deserved to be challenged, she didn’t deserve to be hurt, and Lou didn’t _quite _trust herself. Debbie stared back at her with wide, calm eyes that gave nothing away.

As soon as both doors closed, Debbie took a step forward, but Lou didn’t move. “We…need to talk,” Lou said in lieu of moving. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

Debbie froze and kept staring at Lou, now with a hint of concerned curiosity in her gaze. “What?” she asked. Lou felt her insides clench at the innocence of her voice.

“You better tell me this is not what I think it is.” Lou tried to reel in the bitterness in her tone, but she was finding it exceedingly difficult. “Claude Becker,” she spat.

The contents of Lou’s stomach turned to ice as Debbie actually cracked a small smile and closed the gap between them, stepping into Lou’s space as if she had been invited. “I didn’t do that,” Debbie said. She was almost _laughing_.

Was Debbie actually trying to blame _Tammy _for bringing in Claude? Lou’s hands shook with anger. Her gaze flitted to the side, to Debbie’s hair, to her shoulder – anywhere but her eyes. This wasn’t going well. “I’m not a croupier,” Lou began.

Debbie gave her head the tiniest of shakes in acknowledgement of Lou’s words.

“…or a tourist with a bucket of quarters,” Lou went on. “Don’t con me.” She leaned close to Debbie, aware that this room might be monitored. “You do not run a job in a job,” she hissed, breath ghosting over Debbie’s ear. She saw goosebumps rise on Debbie’s neck.

Debbie swallowed hard. “It’s not going to matter,” she said firmly, trying to meet Lou’s gaze.

Lou allowed her eyes to find Debbie’s, just for a second. Debbie’s eyes were still calm and certain. Couldn’t she _see _the hurt in Lou’s? Why didn't that unsettle her? “We are going to get caught,” Lou said fiercely, whispering the words through gritted teeth, an inch from Debbie’s ear.

Debbie almost rolled her eyes; Lou watched her catch herself. “Stop it,” Debbie said. “We’re not. _You’re _not.”

Lou scoffed and turned away, taking two strides to the ugly couch against the wall and slumping onto it with her elbows on her knees, her left leg jiggling uncontrollably. She glanced up at Debbie, who hadn’t moved. “Why do you do this?” Lou asked, almost pleadingly. “Why can’t you just…Why does there always have to be an asterisk?”

Debbie shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips once more.

“You frame him, I walk.” Lou said the words before she had wrapped her mind around them. She regretted it immediately, wanted to explain that it wasn’t that simple.

Debbie _did _roll her eyes this time. “Stop,” she said patronizingly.

“This is just like last time.” Lou let her head hang between her shoulders, remembering how Debbie had always tried to show off, to pull jobs for Danny’s attention, to _beat _him at a competition that was all her own creation.

“Lou,” Debbie said sharply.

Lou heard her move a few steps towards the couch.

“Lou,” Debbie said again, more quietly this time.

Lou felt the couch dip next to her, felt Debbie’s warmth, achingly close. She didn’t look up.

“Lou,” Debbie said a third time, and this time her hand found Lou’s, tentative and soft.

Lou tilted her head up and turned towards her, surprised by the sudden candor in Debbie’s gaze.

“He’s the reason I’m here, and you…” Debbie cupped Lou’s cheek with her other hand. Lou felt it tremble slightly. “…you have _no _idea what it’s like.” There was a wild freneticism in Debbie’s eyes that made Lou feel a bit sick. What had happened inside to make her this desperate? Generally speaking, Oceans were encouraged to be unphased by minor detours such as prison. 

“He’ll figure it out,” Lou warned, careful to keep her voice as low as possible. Her anger was ebbing now, replaced by the urge to plead.

Debbie shook her head and stroked Lou’s cheek.

“He’s going to figure it out, Debs,” Lou insisted. “He’s going to send you right back here.”

“No, he’s not,” Debbie said. “He’s not.” She smiled again, but this time it seemed more reassuring than mocking.

Lou sighed. She closed her eyes and leaned into Debbie’s hand against her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked after a moment, not opening her eyes.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Debbie replied. Her voice was almost tender – not a tone Lou was used to hearing. “It was stupid, I know. I was _going _to tell you, but when Tammy came by last week I realized that she could work him into it without telling you, and it was just…easier.” She sighed. “It’s what I need to do, Lou,” she added fiercely, “but I…” She trailed off. 

Lou remembered what Tammy had said about Debbie loving her but not being particularly good at it. Debbie’s words seemed to fit with Tammy’s perspective, but they still made her blood run cold. “Promise me one thing, Jailbird,” Lou said, her voice low and icy – probably more than a little forbidding to anyone other than Debbie Ocean. “Promise me that when this is over, you won’t do this again. If you want me to be…” Lou paused, unsure of how to continue because they still hadn’t really said what _they _were. “If you…want me back,” Lou said finally, “you—”

“I do want you back, baby,” Debbie interrupted her. “Oh, God, more than _anything_.”

Lou looked at her with some surprise. More than the job? Lou wondered. “You’ll have to be honest with me, Ocean. One hundred percent. This shit can’t happen again.”

Debbie let her fingers slide from Lou’s cheek, and she brought Lou’s hand to her lips cradled in both of her own. “I promise,” she said, eyes cold and piercing, jaw tightening with sincerity. Lou felt the words against her knuckles, sending warmth through her whole body. 

Lou sat up straight and nodded. “Okay, honey, I…” She felt the urge to apologize for saying she would walk, but she caught herself. It hadn’t been a lie, and she shouldn’t regret the truth of it, even if it wasn’t what she felt now. “I…forgive you,” she said instead. She felt awkward saying it; she wanted to _show _Debbie, not just _tell_ her, but the visiting room of a prison wasn’t exactly the place to do that.

Debbie blushed slightly. “Thanks, Lou,” she said softly, squeezing Lou’s hand once more. “I’m glad you’re here,” she added after a moment. “I…I’ve been…thinking about you a lot.”

Lou felt a swooping sensation in her stomach. “Me too, honey,” Lou said. “That phone line is saving my life.”

“Just one more month, baby,” Debbie said with a sigh, leaning her head on Lou’s shoulder. “One more.” It was hard to think about where they would be in a month’s time. Hopefully – at the very least – they would both be several million dollars richer. Lou wondered what Debbie would think of the loft, of the club. She wanted so badly to bring Debbie into her life. Lou wrapped her arms around Debbie’s shoulders and pressed kisses into her hair.

“Debbie?” Lou said when a thought nudged her after a few minutes of silence.

“Mm hmm?”

“Tammy said Claude hurt you.”

“Tammy’s very perceptive,” Debbie murmured matter-of-factly into Lou’s collarbone.

“So, he did,” said Lou a bit dangerously. “He hurt you.” _Did he break your heart? _Lou almost asked her, but she held her tongue because she couldn’t handle Debbie’s answer no matter what it was. Not yet.

“It’s complicated,” Debbie said through a sigh.

“Will you talk to me about it?” Lou wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she sensed that Debbie hadn’t processed much about Claude, and Lou knew first-hand what that could do to a person.

“One day,” Debbie said. She tilted her head to brush her lips against Lou’s jaw. 

Lou nodded. It was enough, for now. She turned her head and met Debbie’s mouth with her own, trying to put everything she couldn’t yet say into the movement of her lips against Debbie’s. How was it possible that, after ten years, the feel and taste of Debbie was still _home_? Debbie pressed into Lou’s chest, as though she were trying to climb right _into _her. Lou was lightheaded with want, buzzing heat settling low in her stomach. Her limbs felt heavy. She traced circles on Debbie’s cheek with the fingers of her left hand as her right settled on Debbie’s hip, tugging her closer on the couch. Lou felt Debbie’s fingers in her hair, sending shivers through her body. The words of a familiar song echoed in Lou’s head:

_I feel renewed_

_I feel disabled_

_By these bonfires in my spine_

_I don’t know who the arsonist was_

_Which incendiary soul_

_But all I ever wanted_

_Was just to come in from the cold…_

She held Debbie even tighter – her mastermind, her arsonist, her Ocean…her girl. 

**

The following Tuesday, Lou awoke to the empty loft and to the knowledge that she would soon be many millions of dollars richer. The morning was grey and dim, and she realized that she couldn’t have slept more than three or four hours. Her green sequined jumpsuit lay haphazardly across the armchair by her bedroom window. Not for the first time, Lou wondered what Debbie would have worn to the Gala – something amazing, no doubt. Lou smiled sadly to herself and leaned over to pick up her phone, noticing a slew of text messages from Debbie that must have come in after she fell asleep. She had only managed a few words of success and congratulations before she passed out the night before, but Debbie had kept messaging into the early hours of the morning, clearly ecstatic and seemingly unconcerned by Lou’s lack of response. Lou grinned as she scrolled through the messages. 

_John Frazier will be in NYC by tmrw. He’ll talk to Cartier first. Call him tonight. _

Then: _U think Daphne knows? If so, get her on board ASAP. _

Later: _How’s Yen?_

And finally: _Do u think off-shore accounts are more secure in Singapore or Rio? Heard about the Panama Papers. We should probably do both. _

From there, the theme changed: _Baby, I miss u. _

_I wish I were there. _

_I want u._

_Miss ur hands, ur mouth. _

Lou groaned and bit down on her slightly shaking knuckles as she read the words.

_So proud of u, baby. Proud of us. _

_I fking miss u. _

Lou tossed the phone aside and lay back on her pillows, closing her eyes and imagining that her own hands were Debbie’s as they traveled down her body. She could remember the heady thrill of the sex that followed every successful job they pulled. It was a high like no other. Lou palmed her own breast, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Her right hand passed into wet heat between her thighs, and she arched against it. A whimper fell from her lips as she slipped two fingers inside herself. Debbie’s eyes shone in Lou’s imagination, dark and full of promises. She tugged on her nipple none too gently, relishing the sting that burned like a fuse wire to her center. The loft was empty, and Lou made no attempt to muffle the sounds that escaped from her throat – moans and curses and, perhaps, a sob.

For a long time after, Lou lay still, mesmerized by the sound of her own breaths and the slick heat coating her fingers. She kept her eyes closed, picturing Debbie bare and sated beside her with wild hair and soft eyes. The memory of Debbie’s lips against hers jolted Lou back to reality, and Debbie was gone. Lou rolled out of bed, pulling her cigarettes and lighter from her bedside table. She crossed to the window, cracked it open, and folded herself into the armchair, blowing smoke out into the misty spring morning. She reached for her phone and unlocked it, reading through Debbie’s messages once more, and feeling warmth and sadness in equal measure flowing in her blood.

_I fking miss u too, jlbrd_, Lou wrote. _I’m waiting. _

**

The next few weeks proved two things to be true. First, Debbie’s plan was a masterpiece in every detail, and the money flowed into their accounts as easily as water once everything was in place. Second, Daphne Kluger, while not a “total fricking idiot,” was the most obnoxious person Lou had ever met. Day by day, Lou became more and more anxious for the job to finish just so Daphne could go back to being nothing but a face on the tabloid magazines Lou saw when she shoplifted gum from the grocery store.

“So, this is your place?” Daphne asked on the day that the charges against Claude had finally been processed.

“Yes,” Lou replied without looking up from her laptop where she was calculating Amita’s estimates on the soon-to-be liquidated crown jewels in preparation for the reveal of their final cuts.

“Huh,” Daphne said.

Lou looked up momentarily just to glare at her.

“I mean, you really could do a lot with the right interior designer. I know a guy. I mean, he was able to give me _exactly _what I wanted for my beach house on Martha’s Vineyard – like, _really_…” Daphne’s gaze darted somewhat distastefully over Lou’s flea market furniture.

“Is that right?” Lou said, eyes fixed on her spreadsheet.

“_Yeah_. I can give you his card.” Daphne actually clapped her hands together and bounced on the spot.

Lou cringed internally and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, he’ll be _thrilled_,” Daphne went on, pivoting on her stiletto heel. “He’ll get _all_ of this taken care of.”

“I’m not interested,” Lou said in a bored voice. “I like it how it is.” She scribbled an illegible (to anyone else) number on a Post-It note and pushed her chair back from the poker table. “Okay, everybody,” she called to the loft at large. “I think a toast is in order.”

Daphne followed her somewhat dejectedly into the kitchen, and everyone else crowded in around them, glasses and bottles in hand. Lou found herself feeling overwhelmingly fond of them all – even Daphne, at least theoretically. They had trusted her, and it had paid off. They had trusted _Debbie_, someone most of them didn’t know, and that meant _everything_. Looking around at their faces, Lou kept expecting to find Debbie’s sharp gaze meeting her own. Oh, she missed her.

“Mr. Becker,” Lou began once everyone was more or less quiet, “has been charged with insurance fraud and grand theft.” She delivered the news matter-of-factly. “He is expected to plead guilty _at least _to the insurance fraud, but it’ll be a while before the trial. That doesn’t matter. The point is, we’re clean.”

There was a collective sigh. Rose raised her bottle of wine. “To Carl—”

“_Claude_,” everyone corrected her.

“—Becker,” Rose finished. “May he rest in peace in prison.”

Lou grinned and drank. She felt both triumphant and wistful, unable to shake Debbie from her mind especially as she launched into the story of the crown jewels. She knew Tammy could sense the lack of excitement in her voice, but she was fairly sure that no one else could. She had learned from the very best how to disguise her emotions. Debbie should have been the one revealing the larger plan. Debbie _should _have been here to tell everyone their cuts. Lou hadn’t been prepared for how wrong it felt, and by the time the number fell from her lips, she was fighting back tears behind an icy façade. The shock and surprise on everyone’s faces turned into jubilant delight, and before long, Lou was gratefully blending into the background. She leaned on a chair by the turntable, changing the record every so often and trying not to feel too sorry for herself.

“Hey,” Amita said, coming over to her and snapping Lou out of a daydream where Debbie appeared in their midst and pulled Lou into a swooning kiss, like a scene right out of one of Daphne Kluger’s cheesy rom-coms.

“Hey,” Lou said, “thanks for all your extra work.”

“You okay?” Amita asked, brushing off Lou’s gratitude.

Lou shrugged and sipped her beer. “Never better. Always nice to see a job well done.”

“You’re allowed to miss her, you know,” Amita said casually as she thumbed through Lou’s record collection.

Lou stayed silent. Had she been that obvious?

“Look, I don’t really _know_ you,” Amita went on with a shrug of her own, “but the look on your face, well…” She paused and gave Lou a quick, searching glance. “It’s how Debbie looked on the first few jobs I ran with her and Danny.”

“When was that?” Lou asked.

Amita looked thoughtful. “It would’ve been…2009? Maybe? Almost ten years ago now,” she mused.

Lou gave a brief, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

“You left her,” Amita said bluntly. It wasn’t an accusation; it was a simple truth.

“I did. Ten years ago.”

“She missed you.” 

“I know.”

Amita sighed and half-smiled at Lou. “I knew who you were,” she said, “as soon as you tracked me down at my mother’s shop, even though we hadn’t met. You and Debbie…” She trailed off, seemingly searching for the right words. “…you _fit_, you know?”

Lou sighed. “I like to think we do.”

Amita nodded pensively. “Anyway,” she said, “you’re allowed to miss her.”

A lump rose in Lou’s throat, and she blinked away another round of tears. She wasn’t as successful this time, and Amita passed her a napkin to dab at her eyes. Lou sniffed and turned towards the wall to hide her tears from everyone else. Somehow though, she didn’t mind if Amita saw.

“I’m sorry she wasn’t out for this,” Amita said softly. “It was a good one. She did well.”

Lou nodded and managed a watery smile. “She did, but she couldn’t have managed it without you and everyone else.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Amita said, once more avoiding the compliments. “Thirty-eight million is more than enough gratitude for me.”

Lou looked sideways at her. “Can I ask for one more favor?”

“Of course.”

Lou took a deep breath and spoke in a whisper. “I’m not sure _when_, but…” She caught Amita’s gaze and held it, tacitly communicating the complete secrecy of her request. “I’m going to need a ring.”

Amita grinned and clinked her drink against Lou’s. “Cheers to that,” she said. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting married tomorrow, so I might not have time to post, so y'all are getting this a day early! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. The next chapter will hop back in time a tad to go over Debbie's point of view during the job. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Counting Down

“So…”

“Uh…hi. Ocean…right?”

“Right.” Debbie narrowed her eyes and glared across the table in the crowded, cafeteria-style visiting room.

“Yeah…uh…I’m Constance.”

“Uh huh.” Debbie crossed her arms more tightly over her chest. She trusted Lou implicitly with her choice of a pick-pocket – and it was far too late now to change anything – but Constance wasn’t what Debbie had expected. For one thing, she expected someone older and more experienced. Debbie wished it was Lou sitting across from her to give her the final update before the Met Ball, but they had both agreed it would be better for Lou to stay away from the prison this close to the heist. Instead, Lou had decided to send Constance as a courier, insisting to Debbie that there was no one better for the task. Debbie – as of yet – was unconvinced. 

Constance shot her a toothy smile across the table. “Hey, thanks for the job, fam!”

Debbie gave a tiny shake of her head. _Fam?_ she asked herself. “Uh…you’re welcome?” she said. “Got everything covered?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good. We’re good.”

“How’d Lou find you?”

“I, uh…I do card tricks…three-card-Monty, all that, ya know? Make a little…extra here and there.” Constance shot Debbie a look, and Debbie smirked her understanding. “Anyway, she saw me. Got me in on a minor job last year, just some assholes at her club—”

“She put marks on assholes at her club?”

“Yeah, it was good, it was good. Made bank, but then I had to spend it on a plane ticket for some family shit, and I was back in the park when she found me a few weeks ago. Said there was a job.”

“Mm. And what do you think of it?”

Constance shrugged. “I’m in, aren’t I? Besides, Dad knows her shit.”

“Dad?”

“Uh…Lou.”

“Oh, okay.” Debbie nodded as if she understood, but internally she was battling bemusement. She watched Constance’s leg jump nervously under the table. Constance blushed.

“Don’t worry…about the ‘dad’ thing. It’s not a sex…uh…thing,” Constance said in a rush.

Debbie raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t think it was. You’re not really Lou’s type.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Constance asked, leaning forward across the table and imitating Debbie’s raised eyebrows. Debbie appreciated the young woman’s nerve and stared at her unblinkingly until Constance blushed and sat back in her chair. “You…_oh_…you and Lou…okay, I can see it, I can see it.” Constance’s expression flickered between bashful and amused. Debbie smirked. Constance opened and closed her mouth a few times and then said, “I…didn’t realize it was more than just a _friends _thing, but…she…uh…Lou really misses you. She doesn’t say much, but—”

“I know.” Debbie couldn’t prevent a softened expression from momentarily flitting across her face. She leaned forward on her elbows to study Constance’s face. Now she looked closer, she expected that Constance was older than she looked. There was something in her eyes that reminded Debbie of Lou when they had first met in a seedy club almost twenty years ago. Constance might act twitchy and awkward, but underneath that exterior, Debbie knew she was looking at someone who could calculate and scheme almost as well as she or Lou could. No wonder Lou had chosen her. Constance blinked back at Debbie nervously. Debbie sighed. “Lou says you have the best hands she’s ever seen,” Debbie told her.

Constance smiled awkwardly and blushed again. “Yeah…uh…thanks.” She chewed on her thumbnail subconsciously.

“Prove it,” Debbie said with a wink.

Constance flashed her toothy grin once more and leaned forward across the table, bringing her face an inch from Debbie’s. “Already did.” 

Debbie shifted her foot and felt a piece of paper move inside her pantleg, scratching her skin. Constance must have planted it many minutes ago on the pretense of tying her shoe, and Debbie hadn’t noticed, which either meant that Debbie was losing her touch (impossible) or that Constance really _was _the perfect woman for the job. Debbie sat up straight once more and nodded slowly across the table at her, finally completely satisfied. “Not bad,” she muttered, almost to herself. “You’re fascinating.”

Constance furrowed her brow at her. “Uh…okay.” A buzzer rang through the room, announcing the end of the visiting period. Constance and Debbie both stood.

“Nice to meet you, Constance. Good luck tomorrow. Give this to Lou, will you?” Debbie slid a folded piece of paper across the table, and Constance pocketed it at once.

“You got it, boss-lady.”

“That’s not a sex thing either, is it?”

“Nah, fam.”

Debbie shot Constance a brief, genuine smile over her shoulder as she was led towards the door. She watched as Constance gave a small wave and then turned on her heel to dart between other departing visitors. Debbie surreptitiously adjusted the piece of paper inside her pantleg, scratching her ankle to excuse the movement. _The game is afoot_, she thought, and her heart beat excitedly in her chest. 

Back in her cell for the evening, Debbie slid the piece of paper out of her pantleg and looked over it. As she had suspected, it was a brief, coded, step-by-step plan for tomorrow. She lay on her stomach on her bed and tapped her fingers against the crisp paper, smiling at the doodle of a motorcycle in the upper right corner of the page. The list was short:

  1. Glamor cattle
  2. Snow White
  3. Child’s play
  4. Tea and biscuits
  5. Go Fish!
  6. Tuxedo tango

Debbie’s finger lingered next to the final step. With a pang, she imagined Constance having to slip the final piece of the Toussaint into Claude’s jacket, and suddenly wished that she had been a bit warmer during their visit. As far as Debbie was concerned, the best part about running this job from the inside was that she wouldn’t have to be anywhere near Claude. Satisfied with Lou’s list, Debbie folded the paper carefully and pulled her phone out from under her sheet.

_Looking gd, dad_, Debbie typed with a smirk.

Lou’s response came through rapidly, as always. _I didn’t start that, I’ll have u know. _

_Oh?_

_She had a date 2 wks ago. I told her to use protection. _

_Ah. Say no more. Does that make me mom? _Debbie asked. She felt like she was playing with fire. After all, she hadn’t really apologized for working Claude Becker into the plan without Lou’s knowledge. Still, flirting had always been her M.O., and if Lou was willingly working Claude into tomorrow’s plan, then… 

_Proposing again, honey? _Lou replied, interrupting Debbie’s preoccupations. Debbie’s pulse raced.

_Still waiting on those diamonds but it looks like tmrw should change that. ;)_

_Glad u think so. And no. I think Cons finds u far too intimidating for nicknames. _

_She called me boss-lady. _

_I stand corrected. _

_Good luck tmrw baby! Xoxo _

_Thx. I miss u. Sweet dreams Debs. _

_U too <3 _Debbie turned off the phone as soon as the message had sent and shoved it away. She turned the plan over and over in her mind in a cyclic mantra, picturing each step behind her eyelids as though it were inscribed there in bright technicolor and sequins. _Glamor cattle…Snow White…child’s play…tea and biscuits…Go fish!...tuxedo tango. Glamor cattle…Snow White…child’s play…_By the time she dropped off, it felt to Debbie as though the heist had already succeeded. 

**

Later, looking back, Debbie wouldn’t be able to remember much of May 7, 2018 – not what _she _was actually doing, anyway. Her brain swirled, and she pictured herself as a puppet controlling the strings of those carrying out the most formidable jewelry heist in modern history. She didn’t hold Lou’s strings, though. Instead, she pictured Lou beside her, her ultimate equal, calculating and controlling at least as much as Debbie was. It hit her all at once, around lunchtime, that Lou was the only person she had ever trusted so completely. Danny had been her rock – in his way, at times – but she had never been able to trust him the way she trusted Lou. Because Lou would never take liberties with a job. Lou would never push something to be bigger, flashier, riskier. Lou was temperance, and Lou was balance. It was so _obvious_, really, that Debbie laughed as the realization hit her, stifling the sound in a hand clamped over her mouth in the middle of the crowded prison corridor. Everything was going to work…because of _Lou_.

Debbie was drifting in and out of sleep at 11 pm when Lou’s text came through: _U did it. We did it, honey!_

Suddenly wide awake, Debbie smiled and pulled her blanket over her head to hide the light of the phone screen. Her fingers flew across the screen, closing loopholes and tying loose strings. She knew Lou was asleep, tried not to picture her peaceful face as she had seen it on a thousand nights, after a thousand successful jobs. Debbie chewed the inside of her cheek. But no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts, which had been fixed on completing the job, turned towards Lou instead.

_Baby, I miss u, _Debbie wrote, and with that – not bothering to ask her permission – Debbie’s heart took over from her head. And if that had _ever _happened before tonight, Debbie couldn’t remember it. 

_I wish I were there, _she said next. 

Then: _I want u. _Debbie felt herself teetering on the edge of a cliff. The depth of her emotion felt raw and dangerous in the wee hours of the morning as Marcia breathed in the bed across from her. Debbie strove with herself, willing herself to something honest.

_Miss ur hands, ur mouth, _she wrote.

_So proud of u, baby. Proud of us. _

_I fking miss u. _

**

_I fking miss u too, jlbrd_. _I’m waiting._

Debbie read the words over and over again in her mind long after she had stashed her phone in her mattress once more on Tuesday morning. She felt her lip quiver but couldn’t quite pin down the emotion that was causing the urge to cry. The success of the heist had Debbie floating on a cloud for about twelve hours, and she still felt high with the thrill of it several days later. Even her work assignment cleaning the equipment in the gym seemed more pleasant than usual. In contrast, her longing for Lou was becoming more and more profound. Debbie was still kicking herself for not telling Lou about Claude, and – no matter what Lou said in her texts – Debbie worried about the apologies that needed to be made before they began a future together.

She was still overwhelmed by the idea that she _loved _Lou. Debbie had never been so sure of anything in her life, and yet the fact that she loved _anyone_ was so far outside her image of herself that it made her feel unsteady and confused. “Debbie Ocean” was the name of a calculating and cold criminal mastermind, and being in love – hopelessly, overwhelmingly, ridiculously in love – didn’t fit that persona. Debbie was almost grateful for the distance from Lou so that she could sort through her feelings. Almost. Mostly, she cursed everything that still kept them irrevocably apart. 

_I’m waiting_, Lou had said. 

Debbie tried not to spend too much time picturing her; it hurt. But as she mindlessly scrubbed the free weights in the gym with bleach and warm water a week after the Met Gala, she couldn’t prevent her thoughts from wandering over images of Lou: Lou smoking a cigarette; Lou chewing gum; Lou on her motorcycle; Lou in the green Armani jumpsuit she had worn at the Met—Tammy had brought Debbie a photo of the design. And then Lou’s smile and Lou’s eyes; Lou sleeping next to her in _their _bed with her bare skin glowing; Lou pushing Debbie’s thighs apart and settling between her legs.

Debbie’s hands shook slightly as she tried to ignore the swooping in her stomach. _Lou’s birthday_, Debbie thought suddenly, immediately wishing she hadn’t remembered. 

“Fuck,” Debbie swore as she dripped bleach on her shoe. _Focus on something else_, she told herself. By the time the buzzer went off for dinner, Debbie had run through every U.S. area code and its corresponding location and recited the first two acts of Shakespeare’s _Pericles_ in her head. She still missed Lou; it was becoming more and more difficult to distract herself.

Back in April, Debbie had finally told Marcia about her secret phone, and though Marcia had grasped Debbie by the shoulders and shaken her when she heard that Debbie had let the phone lie unused for two years, Marcia had also promised not to tell anyone and to do anything she could to cover for Debbie when she messaged with Lou in the evenings. Debbie was already sorting through ideas on how to get Marcia out on early parole, maybe as early as January. Debbie owed Marcia more than Debbie could ever tell her. She had a feeling that Lou’s hacker might be able to help.

There was a text from Lou when Debbie turned on the phone that evening: _We’re so close jlbrd_.

Debbie sighed as she read it and then squeezed her eyes shut. This was the only time of day that she really, _truly _allowed herself to think of Lou. It was the only time that thinking of Lou was exciting rather than heartbreaking. It still hurt – her skin burned, her heart raced, and the ache in her chest was ever-present – but it felt _right_. She could lean into the discomfort and fully believe that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, that Lou really was waiting for her on the outside. _What’s left? _Debbie texted back after taking several deep breaths.

_Claude. Waiting on charges. _

Debbie smashed the side of her face into her pillow and narrowed her eyes at the three dots indicating Lou was still typing. Even now, the thought of him made her feel wretched, and her heart was suddenly racing for entirely unpleasant reasons.

_And then it’s just liquidating the crown jewels. Amita’s on it. Should have an est cut by this time nxt wk. _

Debbie took another deep breath, relieved that the subject of Claude had passed for now. _Good job baby, _Debbie wrote.

_Come home Debs_, came Lou’s response. She could hear the plea in Lou’s words. Debbie covered her mouth with her hand.

_Soon_, she replied, wishing she could offer some reassurance that didn’t sound so empty.

_I want u. _

The words they wrote back and forth were the same as they had been for a month now, but they still sent thrills through Debbie’s blood. She felt sweat beading along her hairline, and the fabric of her cotton pajamas seemed to prickle, making her squirm. Clenching and unclenching her left fist in an attempt to relieve some of the built-up tension in her body, Debbie used her right hand to respond to Lou: _Want u too. So bad. _

_It’s been too long. Can’t remember ur taste anymore. _

Debbie almost moaned, but she caught herself at the last moment by biting down on her knuckles. _Want u to taste me_, she wrote with trembling fingers. 

_I will. _

_I know. Soon baby. Soon._

_Sleep well, honey. I miss u. _

_Happy Birthday Lou. Sweet dreams xoxo. _Debbie turned off the phone and shoved it under the sheet. She stayed on her side, facing the wall and not moving. She was exhausted, but her mind whirred deliriously, flashing images of Lou and herself, herself and Lou. Even in the last two and a half months since her parole hearing, Debbie hadn’t allowed herself to cry very often. The trouble was that once the tears began to fall, it was very difficult to make them stop. She stared blankly at the dimly lit wall next to her bed, counting the cracks in the paint and swallowing around the lump in her throat. Tonight, the tears came no matter how hard she tried to stop them, blurring her vision until Debbie could no longer focus on the wall in front of her. She curled in on herself in frustration, burying her face and keeping her body completely rigid. She should have been out with Lou in a fancy dress and too-tall stilettos, stealing Chanel perfume and slipping it into Lou’s hand with a brush of lips to her cheek. Debbie had missed eleven of Lou’s birthdays now, but this was by far the worst, because she _should _have been there. She should have. 

There was a rustle of blankets on the other side of the cell. “Hey, you okay, Ocean?” Marcia asked.

Debbie said nothing. She heard Marcia sigh and stand up from her bed.

“Ocean,” Marcia said firmly, “you gotta stay strong, girl.”

Debbie swallowed hard as Marcia sat down on the edge of her bed and laid a hand on her head.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t cry, you know?”

Debbie sniffed and kept her eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s the first thing you gonna do when you get out?” Marcia stroked Debbie’s hair, and Debbie tried to let herself be comforted.

She cleared her throat. “Danny,” she said hoarsely. “I’ll go see Danny.”

“And then your girl?”

“Yeah, and then,” Debbie swallowed hard once more. “And then Lou.” Her voice broke on Lou’s name, and she pressed her mouth against the side of her hand.

“You gonna tell her you love her?” Marcia asked casually.

“Yes,” Debbie replied at once, surprised at how clear her voice sounded this time.

“You fucking better, Ocean,” Marcia said with a gentle pat to Debbie’s shoulder. She got up and returned to her own bed. “You fucking better.”

Debbie smiled to herself and allowed her tears to fall.

**

Debbie was awoken by the intercom. “Ocean, please proceed to Officer Price’s office before breakfast.”

_Dina_, Debbie thought. _What now? _

“What she want with you?” Marcia grumbled sleepily.

Debbie shrugged as she got up hastily to change into her hideously orange day uniform. “Could be anything. Maybe Lou was late on her cut for the cigarettes yesterday.” Five minutes later, the cell door clicked to indicate Debbie was free to leave to see Dina. “See you later,” she said with a wave to Marcia. Marcia grunted a sleepy response as the door shut behind Debbie.

The corridors were quiet this early in the morning. There were a few guards patrolling here and there and one or two other prisoners who, like Debbie, had been summoned to an appointment. It was as close to peaceful as a place like this could get. Debbie took a deep breath before she knocked on the door of Dina’s office, relishing the relative silence that broke as her knuckles met wood.

“You wanted to see me?” Debbie asked.

“Take a seat,” Dina said, looking up from a file in front of her. She sipped her coffee as Debbie sat down. “We have a situation,” Dina began.

Debbie narrowed her eyes and said nothing, waiting for an explanation.

“Claude Becker has been taken into custody,” Dina said.

“Yeah, Lou told me,” Debbie said, casually. Dina knew about her phone after all.

“Figured she would,” Dina said with a nod. “That’s not the problem. _This_…” She slid the folder across the desk towards Debbie. “…is the problem.”

Debbie flipped open the folder and was met with the photo of a woman’s face clipped to a job application. The woman had dark hair and hazel eyes, but was otherwise unremarkable. Debbie flipped to the application and scanned the heading: Employment Application – Corrections Officer. Next to that was the logo for the prison and the seal of the State of New York.

“Look at the name,” Dina said impatiently.

Debbie’s eyes dropped lower, and “Allison Becker” jumped out at her. Her heart beat quickly. “His sister?” she asked calmly, sliding the file back across the desk.

“Cousin,” Dina said. “American. Lives in the Bronx.”

Debbie tried to remember if Claude had ever mentioned having any American family. Then again, their entire partnership (relationship, whatever) had been based on a complex web of lies and games. “And?” Debbie asked. Dina wouldn’t have called her here for something unimportant.

“_And_ she’s just been hired to work here. I tried to stop it, cited conflict of interest since she’s family of your accuser, but she’s not a close enough relative.”

Debbie nodded. “Is she close with…with him?” she asked.

“_That’s _the problem,” Dina said, sitting back in her chair. “It seems like she is, and we already know she…doesn’t like you. Didn’t like Danny either, apparently. He must have tried to go after Claude after your sentence?”

“Sounds like him,” Debbie said fondly.

“_Anyway_,” Dina went on pointing a finger at Debbie, “you’re in danger, and it’s not from other inmates this time. It’s from a guard, and that’s, well…” Dina cleared her throat but didn’t continue.

“It’s not good,” Debbie said frankly.

“You’ve already been roughed up once, Ocean, and—”

“Roughed up?” Debbie interrupted with a hint of an incredulous laugh. “I was fucking _stabbed_, Dina.”

“Exactly.” Dina gave Debbie a hard look. “With another guard there’s…well, there’s only so much I can do.”

“Okay,” Debbie said in a business-like tone. “How much do I need?”

Dina shook her head. “You can’t buy your way out of it, Ocean. Not this time.”

“I pay _you._”

Dina rolled her eyes and leaned forward with her elbows on her desk. “Look. I know this place is a shithole and that the American prison system is fucked. I’m not above some harmless bribery to make your sentence less of a living hell, but there are some…” She tapped her finger on Allison Becker’s file. “…that actually think prisons and _justice_ can fit in the same sentence.”

“Ah, so, she doesn’t know that her dear cousin is a criminal?” Debbie asked, crossing her legs and sitting back in her chair with her arms folded casually across her chest.

“She believed his testimony against you, cited it as a reason that she wanted to go into law enforcement.”

Debbie made a noise of disgust. “And how about now? Isn’t he being held by NYPD?”

Dina shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll think he’s been falsely accused by none other than John Frazier, and it’s no secret Frazier’s connected to the Ocean name.”

Debbie grimaced, thinking hard. “What do I need to do?” she asked. 

“You need to stay the fuck away from her for the next two weeks until you’re released. Her first day on the clock is tomorrow.”

“How do I do that?” Debbie hated having to ask so many questions, preferred to know that she was about to command a room before she even entered it. In prison, she preferred to know exactly how to act at all times to get exactly what she wanted.

“Be an Ocean, Deborah,” Dina replied with a wink. “It’s what you’re best at.” 

Debbie cracked a smile as she got up to leave and thanked Dina on the way out the door. Out in the hallway, Debbie leaned against the wall for a moment to gather her wits. _Be an Ocean_, Dina had said. Debbie knew what that meant: hide in plain sight, know where the cameras are, lose yourself in crowds, don’t provoke. Survive. It was going to be a tough few weeks, but on the other end of it, Lou was waiting for her. And for Lou, Debbie would gladly pass through any hell that Allison Becker created for her. 

**

For the next fourteen days, Debbie became a shadow. She slid from one area of the prison to another in the midst of her fellow inmates, keeping her eyes down and letting her hair fall into her face. The advantage of being a master of disguise was that Debbie knew how to adjust her posture and her stride to make her seem like an entirely different person. However, hiding from one specific person in a sea of people who already knew her was a challenge, and by the end of Allison Becker’s first week on the job, Debbie was exhausted. She barely had enough energy to respond to Lou’s texts in the evening, and her eyes often fluttered closed before she could say goodnight. She knew Lou would notice the change, but couldn’t bear to tell her what was going on. They were so _close _now, just days away from seeing one another, from being together. Debbie wouldn’t – couldn’t – mar that for anything. One week after Debbie’s meeting with Dina, Lou passed her the news of Claude’s charges along with the exact number of their final cut. The next day, after sending an all too perfunctory message to Lou (_over and out baby. see you 6/1 xoxo)_, Debbie stopped by Dina’s office and turned over the phone.

“It’s not worth the risk anymore,” Debbie told her. “Can’t have her going through my shit and getting me more time in here.”

Dina grimaced at her and took the phone without question. 

Debbie’s emotions were tumultuous. She missed Lou even more without the ability to text her in the evenings, and yet she was simultaneously ecstatic about the success of the Met Job. Nevertheless, she pushed all her feelings – both good and bad – deep down inside her, slumping her shoulders and keeping her eyes on the floor as she walked from meals to work assignments, from her cell to the gym. On the final Sunday of her sentence, five days before her release, Debbie was almost back to her cell after dinner when someone grabbed her shoulder and pulled her aside. Before she knew what was happening, a door had closed between her and the corridor, and she was staring into a pair of hazel eyes that showed nothing but hatred.

“Ocean,” the woman spat.

Debbie didn’t flinch. She flicked her gaze to the wall of the storage closet over Allison Becker’s shoulder and steeled herself not to react.

“So, you’re the slutty dyke who tried to frame my cousin. Gotta admit, I thought you’d be younger.”

Debbie didn’t even blink at the slurs or the weak insults. She stood still and dug her fingernails into her palms. _He’s been charged, he’s been charged_, she kept telling herself over and over as words and fears from more than six years ago threatened to choke her. _He’s going to prison. He can’t get to you. _

“And now you’re getting out,” Officer Becker went on, walking around Debbie in the cramped space. “Friday, right?”

Debbie didn’t acknowledge the question. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. Sure enough, she heard a whoosh of air and the sharp crunch of knuckles hitting flesh before pain seared through her ribs. She stumbled sideways but righted herself quickly, still refusing to look at Allison Becker’s face. Another blow hit her in the stomach, and she gagged as her feeble dinner threatened to make a reappearance. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, willing it to stop. Debbie wanted to fight back, knew that her many hours in the gym were probably enough to land a few good punches, but fighting a guard was a sure way to get an extension on her sentence. She wasn’t going to give anyone that satisfaction, least of all someone connected to Claude. _Lou, Lou, Lou_, Debbie thought wildly. _Oh, God, Lou. Five days, five days. _

Officer Becker’s knee found Debbie’s diaphragm, and Debbie was suddenly on the ground with no memory of having fallen. All the air had left her lungs, and black dots popped at the corners of her eyes as pain seared through her chest. She gasped for breath and watched a pair of heavy boots move towards her. There was a pause, and then the sharp toe of one boot slammed into Debbie’s ribs. An involuntary cry fell from her lips. It seemed that was what Allison Becker had been waiting for. Debbie heard her sigh and watched the boots walk towards the door. 

“Just a little reminder,” a calm, cold voice said as the door opened and shut, and Debbie was alone on the floor of the storage closet.

She took a deep shuddering breath that made her ribs protest painfully. There were tears on her cheeks, and she wiped them hastily away as she pushed herself into a seated position. _Five days, Lou_, she thought again. _Five days. _She took a minute to breathe deeply, teaching herself quickly how to prevent a wince with every breath. The place where Allison Becker’s boot had connected with her ribs felt like fire. Debbie slipped her fingers under her uniform and prodded at herself, checking for broken bones. Thankfully, everything seemed to be in place, but Debbie knew the bruises would be formidable by tomorrow.

Debbie used a nearby shelf to pull herself to her feet and took a few shaky steps around the storage closet, making sure she could walk without limping. She couldn’t bear to step back out into the corridor with any sign of weakness. Satisfied with her own acting, Debbie opened the door and slipped into the crowd of prisoners, still making their way back from dinner. She kept her eyes on the floor all the way back to her cell and didn’t even look at Marcia as she sat gingerly on her bed.

“She got you, huh?”

Debbie nodded. She had told Marcia about Allison Becker because she knew that anyone associated with her would be at risk, too.

“How bad?” 

“It’ll bruise,” Debbie said, moving stiffly to lie down on her mattress, “but nothing’s broken.”

Marcia let her breath out in a sympathetic hiss. “Five days, Ocean.”

“Yeah,” Debbie said, gritting her teeth against the throbbing pain. “Five days.”

**

Five days later, Debbie stood in the prison parking lot in the short, sequined evening dress and six-inch stilettos in which she had been arrested with her wool coat and purse slung over her arm.

She turned her phone, which Dina had kept until her release, over and over in her hand, thinking hard. She could ask Lou to come get her, but she wanted – needed – a little time with Danny to herself. Still, she didn’t want to wait long before she saw her; she needed Lou as much as she needed to burn these clothes that still reminded her of Claude.

Debbie pulled up Lou’s contact information and wrote, _Where is the fking cemetery? 12pm. _Two minutes later, with an address on the screen, Debbie took her first steps away from the prison with forty-five dollars in her pocket and thirty-eight _million_ dollars spread out between five shiny, new, off-shore accounts. The hot June sun beat down on her exposed neck and back, but Debbie relished it. She did not, however, relish the feeling of walking several miles in stilettos with nearly-broken ribs. Still, she reached the cemetery by 11:30 am, slowing her pace as she walked towards the mausoleum, unsure of what she would feel when she stepped inside. Danny’s name looked cold, and when she reached out to touch it, Debbie found that it _was _cold. She sank onto the bench in front of the wall of names and tried not to feel numb. There was a scuffing and shuffling from around the corner, and Debbie recognized Reuben’s footsteps. She smiled softly, but she wasn’t ready to face him yet. She was here for her brother, for herself, and no one else. 

Danny had always fascinated her. He had managed to tread the fine line between charisma and mystery with the grace of tight-rope walker. Elegance and poise were like a second skin to him, just as they were to her, but he could also be accessible and _relatable_ in a genuine way with which Debbie could never hope to compete. She hated and loved him for that in equal measure. He wasn’t as smart she was (they _both _knew that), but he had pulled off beautiful, brilliant jobs in spite of it. He kept things in perspective, knew that there were things that were more in important than jobs. It had taken Debbie almost four decades in crime to figure that out for herself (to figure out that _Lou_ was really the most important thing in her life), but for him it was as intuitive as shoplifting. She envied that, envied the ease with which he was – truly – a decent person. 

“You better be in there,” she said softly, and somehow, she was surprised to find that she actually believed he was dead. She shifted slightly on the bench, trying to position her bruised ribs in a more comfortable way. There was a cough from around the corner, and Debbie felt the corners of her mouth twitch. “I know you’re there, Reuben,” she called at last. “You can come on out.”

Reuben stepped out from behind the corner looking as flamboyant as ever, oversized glasses perched on his nose. “I was just paying my respects,” he said defensively.

“Around the corner?” Debbie raised her eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” She patted the seat next to her.

Reuben sighed as he sank onto it. “It was you, wasn’t it?” He asked, slipping a New York Times article about the theft of the Toussaint into her hand.

Debbie smirked, but said nothing. She folded the article carefully and slipped it into her shoulder bag.

“He didn’t want you to do it,” Reuben said.

“Do what?” Debbie asked innocently, though she knew her eyes were twinkling knowingly at him. She reached over and smoothed the lapel of his dress shirt. 

Reuben sighed and shook his head.

“What else did he say?” Debbie asked. She kept her voice casual, but there was a twinge in her chest that told her she really _did_ care what Danny had thought of her plan.

“He said it was brilliant,” Reuben replied.

“Oh, okay.”

“…and that you would probably end up back in prison.”

Debbie smiled and shook her head. “Well, I’m out, aren’t I?”

Reuben gave an exasperated, anxious shrug. 

Debbie stared at Danny’s name on the wall. “He would’ve loved it,” she said quietly, with a vague gesture at Danny’s name. Reuben patted her forearm sympathetically.

The rumble of a motorcycle cut through the quiet of the cemetery, and Debbie looked over her shoulder and through the dirty glass of the mausoleum door to see the blurred outline of a lanky, leather-clad figure climbing off a bike.

“I gotta go,” she said, standing up and stretching as best she could with her tender ribs. Reuben stood, too, still looking at her with accusatory concern. Debbie leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re looking sharp,” she said, with a nod to his fuchsia shirt.

“Take care,” he said, turning back to Danny’s name on the wall.

“I always do,” Debbie replied, not looking back as she strode out of the mausoleum.

It seemed as though she were moving in slow motion. The pain in her ribs crystallized everything around her into bright technicolor blurs. Lou was the only thing that seemed solid, leaning on her bike – a _new_ bike, Debbie noticed – with her hands fidgeting and her eyes darting, seemingly unable to focus on Debbie or anything else. It was surreal, and yet at the same time, Debbie felt more alive than she had in ten years. Lou waited for her to approach, and Debbie made sure to maintain her stride even despite her bruises. That was a story for later. For now…

Lou crossed the remaining three feet between them and pulled Debbie into a hug. The feel of her arms around her completely overwhelmed the sharp pain in her ribs, and Debbie relaxed into her warmth. Within seconds, Debbie was already drunk on the earthy smell of Lou’s leather jacket and the sharp tang of her perfume. She took a deep breath, and the exhale came out as a sob, muffled in the hair behind Lou’s ear. If things had been different – perhaps if she had gotten parole three months ago when she was _supposed _to – Debbie would’ve pulled away with a sarcastic comment and a smirk. She had never been particularly comfortable with public displays of emotion. But just for today, things were different. For today, the only thing that mattered to Debbie in the whole universe was that Lou was there to take her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll be pretty fluffy going forward, although we'll also be dealing with Debbie processing prison a little differently than in the canon context. 
> 
> Updates will most likely be on Saturdays moving forward. :)


	6. Home

Lou’s new bike easily fit a passenger with room to spare, but Debbie couldn’t bear to leave any space between them. Instead, Debbie fit her thighs around Lou’s hips like she always had and folded her long wool coat into a bundle on her lap. Her sequin and mesh dress rode up all the way to the tops of her thighs, and Debbie didn’t miss the way that Lou glanced at her legs over her shoulder before pulling her helmet on and gesturing to a second helmet attached to the back of the bike. Debbie took the hint and pulled on the helmet, surprised at how familiar it felt after all these years and smirking at the heat in Lou’s eyes. Despite the warmth of the bright June day, she felt goosebumps rise where Lou’s gaze rested. Oh, she _wanted _her.

“Take me home, baby,” Debbie murmured, stroking Lou’s sides with her thumbs through her leather jacket.

“Hold on tight, honey,” Lou replied, starting the ignition and pulling away from the mausoleum.

“Always,” Debbie said, though she knew Lou couldn’t hear her over the roar of the engine. “Not letting go this time.”

The words that Debbie needed to say – the words she promised she _would _say – bounced through her body. She felt as though she and Lou were still hurtling towards one another, that they needed to come to a stop before the words could fall from her mouth. In the solitude of her helmet, Debbie tried the feeling of them on her tongue.

“I love you,” she whispered, and then, in a normal speaking voice that nevertheless was lost in the motorcycle’s racket: “Lou, I love you.” Debbie liked the taste of the words. 

Stopped at a traffic light, Lou’s left hand fell to Debbie’s left knee, caressing her skin with her gloved fingers. Debbie closed her eyes. The vibration of the bike, along with Lou’s gentle touch and the feeling of her pressed against Debbie’s chest, was pushing Debbie towards a level of arousal with which she was unaccustomed. The pain in her ribs, though annoying, was far less _present _than the throbbing heat between her legs. She stifled a moan in her helmet as the light turned green, and they sped forward.

Five minutes later, Lou pulled down a side street towards a group of warehouses on the shore of the upper bay. Debbie could just see the mouth of the Hudson River in the distance, but the sun bouncing off the waves made it hard to enjoy the view even through the helmet’s tinted visor. Lou drove towards one of the warehouses, across an empty lot. A garage door on the south side of the building opened with the press of a button. They sped inside, and Lou parked the bike next to the old Toyota. Debbie wondered if the title for the car was still in her name (or alias, in this case) or if Lou had switched it back to her own. 

“Just finished this renovation last week,” Lou said conversationally as she turned off the bike and pulled off her helmet. “Used a bit of my cut.” Debbie looked around at the spacious garage and felt herself smiling. It was _Lou_ in every detail from the giant clock face hanging on one wall with all its gears on display, to the lofty ceilings whose rafters blurred to shadows. It was like some kind of steam punk factory crossed with an airline hanger.

“I like it,” Debbie said, handing the second helmet to Lou. With a gallant gesture, Lou held out a hand for Debbie to hold as she dismounted from the bike. Forgetting about the unfortunate combination of her stilettos and her bruised ribs, Debbie stumbled as she stepped down. She fell into Lou, and Lou caught her, fingers gripping Debbie’s upper arms tightly.

“Hey, you okay?” Lou asked, raising a hand to brush Debbie’s hair from her forehead. Her lips were an inch from Debbie’s. She could hear Lou’s breaths mingling with her own, feel the electricity between them, see the way Lou’s eyes dropped to Debbie’s lips and back. 

Debbie swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I just…I…” Words failed her. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Lou’s, firm and demanding. She _wanted_ her, and she needed a chance at intimacy that didn’t involve talking about bruised ribs and an old scar. In a way, Debbie craved that conversation, felt no qualms at all with Lou seeing her injuries, but if she could have this first, Debbie was going to take full advantage.

Lou gasped against Debbie’s mouth and stumbled backwards in surprise until her back hit the side of the Toyota. There was a buzzing in Debbie’s ears that reduced the pain in her ribs to an almost-forgotten phenomenon; Lou was far more important than a few bruises. With one hand on Lou’s jaw and the other on her hip, Debbie pressed her into the side of the car and slid her bare thigh between Lou’s legs. She could feel Lou’s heat even through her leather pants, and it made Debbie groan. Her trembling fingers fiddled with the fastening of Lou’s pants.

“Debs…_Debbie_,” Lou muttered, holding Debbie’s upper body away from her for a moment but still pressing herself on Debbie’s leg.

Debbie dragged her eyelids open and looked into Lou’s eyes, noticing heavy arousal in her gaze. “Lou…”

“You sure this is what you want? Because we can go slow. It’s been a long ti—”

“I want this first,” Debbie said firmly, stroking Lou’s cheek with the thumb of her left hand. “I…I need to feel you.” She leaned her forehead against Lou’s, panting through the tension in her body. Her voice shook. “Is that okay? Do you—?”

Lou made a noise that was something between a laugh and a moan. “More than okay, honey,” she said breathlessly, her lips brushing against Debbie’s. Debbie smiled and kissed her gently. She felt Lou’s fingers find her own, helping her undo the button of her pants and pull down the zipper. Debbie moaned into Lou’s mouth as she slid her hand into Lou’s underwear to find her slick and warm.

“_Fuck_, baby.”

“Want you.” Lou cleared her throat as Debbie’s fingers teased over her. “Want you inside me.”

Debbie swooned at the words and felt a rush of wetness between her own legs. Lou’s head fell back against the car as Debbie slid two fingers into her with ease. Debbie grazed her teeth over Lou’s jaw to the spot behind her ear that made Lou squirm. Sure enough, a shiver ran through Lou’s muscles, and Debbie felt Lou tremble. The tight, velvet heat around Debbie’s fingers drove her wild. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and Lou’s pleasure seemed to overtake all her own desires as she began to move inside her. Soon, Lou was whimpering with every thrust of Debbie’s fingers. Debbie increased the pressure of her thigh against Lou’s center, pressing her own palm over her. Pulling her head reluctantly from Lou’s neck, Debbie kept her eyes fixed on Lou’s face. Lou eyelids fluttered, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. Debbie didn’t think she had ever seen anything so beautiful. She wrapped her free hand around Lou’s back, running up under her shirt. All at once, Lou went rigid around Debbie’s fingers. Her back arched off the side of the old Toyota, and Debbie watched mesmerized as Lou’s entire body shook through her release.

“You’re beautiful,” Debbie whispered as Lou finally relaxed. She kept stroking her fingers inside her until the last ripples of Lou’s orgasm had passed. Then she pulled out and trailed the moisture on her fingertips over the skin of Lou’s abdomen. Debbie’s mouth watered at the idea of tasting her, but she wanted to do that properly later with her head between Lou’s thighs. She shuddered pleasurably at the thought.

“Welcome home, Jailbird,” Lou murmured when she finally found her voice.

Debbie laughed softly as she stepped away, straightening the rumpled hem of her dress as she did so. She leaned against Lou’s bike and pulled off her stilettos, enjoying the rough sensation of cool pavement beneath her bare feet. Lou pushed herself away from the car and held out her hand.

“Come on,” she said. “You may be surprised to learn that I don’t actually _live _in this garage.”

“Baby, this garage is bigger than any apartment we’ve ever owned, and at least a dozen times the size of where I’ve been for the past six years.”

Lou smirked at that, but there was empathetic sadness behind her eyes, too. It was time to talk, and as Debbie followed Lou across the garage towards a door, her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

**

“Nice place,” Debbie said, looking around at Lou’s loft. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows illuminating the cozy, mismatched furniture and the vintage kitchen. It was so _comfortable_ that Debbie didn’t know what to do with herself. She perched on one of the stools by the kitchen counter with a glass of iced tea and tried not to get too distracted by the abundance of colors and textures around her.

“Try heating it,” Lou replied. She had her back turned to Debbie and was busy whipping up two sandwiches for lunch. “There’s a room for you upstairs – I mean, you’re welcome to share with me, but I thought…you know, after prison…_Anyway_, your stuff’s upstairs, too. I borrowed some shit – figured you weren’t using it.” She tossed a grin over her shoulder in Debbie’s general direction before turning back to the sandwiches in front of her. 

Debbie smirked and sipped her tea, then reached over to grab a slice of lemon from a dish on the counter. She squeezed it into the glass and rubbed the rind around the rim. When she glanced up, she noticed Lou watching her and smiled.

Lou cleared her throat. “Here,” she said, pushing a plate with an egg salad sandwich on it across the counter, “I hope this is better than…well, anything you’ve eaten in the past six years.”

Debbie winked. “Thanks, baby.”

They ate in silence, eyes locking every so often. Debbie felt herself blush every time Lou’s gaze met hers. It was awkward, though not unpleasant. She tried to savor the sandwich, but after years of prison food, she was still finished well before Lou.

“I can make you another one if you want,” Lou said, gesturing to her empty plate.

Debbie shook her head as she drank her tea. “No, thanks. I’m good,” she said when she put down the glass. Lou nodded and finished her sandwich.

“I’ll have to take you to see the club later – maybe not today but soon,” Lou said, as she placed both of their empty plates in the sink. “_Oh_, also, everyone wants to meet you.”

Debbie raised her eyebrows.

“The Met team,” Lou elaborated as she poured herself a second glass of iced tea. “I mean, you know Amita and Tammy, but the rest of them,” Lou shook her head. “They’re really something else. You’ll like them…well, you’ll tolerate them. And they are going to _love _you. Actually…” She paused contemplatively with the refrigerator door half-way open. “I think they already love you. You did make them all thirty-eight million dollars richer, after all. But I think they’ll _like _you.”

Debbie smiled understandingly at Lou’s chatter. A part of her felt the same need to fill the silence, to pretend that everything could fall into place between them without preamble. Perhaps that was how it could’ve been if Debbie had gotten out in March with a grand scheme stretching ahead of them and plenty to do. But now, there was no plan to distract them, no job to serve as an excuse for bantering their way back to a kind of normalcy.

“It’d be nice to thank them all in person,” Debbie said in response to Lou’s words.

Lou nodded. “They’ll appreciate that. I didn’t talk about you _all_ the time or anything, but it was _your _plan, and…” Lou kept talking as she walked around the counter towards the living area. Debbie watched her, though she found it difficult to focus on her words. Her heart beat high in her throat. It was time. Debbie stood up and walked towards Lou where she was standing by the windows looking out over the view of the bay and talking with her hands about John Frazier’s quirks. “He’s just so…” Lou groaned in frustration. “I just _hate _his stupid waistcoats and the way he blabbers on and on about the goddamn _football_. He’s like something out of an old, _bad _movie, you know, and—”

“I love you.”

There was a ringing silence. Lou turned to look at Debbie, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. Debbie stood still in the middle of the room feeling small and vulnerable and so, _so_ proud of herself for finally saying the words. She couldn’t take them back now, and she didn’t want to.

“Lou,” Debbie said sharply when Lou continued to stare at her in shock. “I _love _you, baby.”

Lou blinked rapidly several times.

“I should’ve told you months ago when I finally realized,” Debbie went on, fiddling with the cuff of her dress and suddenly unable to look into Lou’s eyes, “and I should have _realized _years ago. It’s…it’s always been you, Lou.” She looked up to find that Lou had taken a few steps towards her. The silence stretched between them. “Say something?” Debbie said finally, so quietly that she wasn’t sure if Lou heard her.

But then Lou was right in front of her, and her hands were cradling Debbie’s face. “I love you, Debs,” Lou whispered, “I’ve loved you for years – _decades _probably – and I’m so, _so _sorry that I haven’t told you. I promised myself I would – today. But I didn’t know how to start, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” Debbie murmured, raising her hands to wipe a few stray tears from Lou’s cheeks with her thumbs. “We’re okay.”

“Oh, God, I love you,” Lou said through a sigh, and she pulled Debbie to her chest in an off-balance embrace that sent both of them stumbling ungracefully into the back of the couch.

Debbie couldn’t prevent the whimper that escaped from her lips. The pain in her ribs had finally caught up with her, and her head was spinning with emotion and overstimulation. She felt suddenly overwhelmed, tightly gripping the couch cushions with one hand and Lou with the other. 

Lou pulled away to look at her face, concerned. “Are you okay, Debs?”

Debbie winced and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m—I’ll be fine. There are…things I need to tell you.” She rubbed a hand absentmindedly over her ribcage, not enjoying the way the fabric of her dress moved over the tender skin beneath. 

Lou’s hand covered hers. “You’re hurt,” she said bluntly. It wasn’t a question.

“It’s not bad,” Debbie said at once, meeting her gaze with a hard look, making sure Lou knew she wasn’t lying. “I promise. It’s healing.”

Lou chewed the inside of her cheek. “What do you need?”

Debbie was taken aback by the question. She hadn’t been able to decide her own needs for so long, and being released without a heist up her sleeve, well, she hadn’t prepared for that, hadn’t prepared for the lack of distraction from readjustment. She always did better under pressure.

Lou noticed her silence. “It’s a lot,” she said sympathetically. “Getting out, I mean.” She tucked a strand of hair behind Debbie’s ear. The soft touch made Debbie’s skin tingle. 

Debbie grimaced her agreement to Lou’s words. She began sorting through the swirling emotions in her mind, compartmentalizing with the speed of a true professional. Lou waited. Lou _always _waited. “I need to burn this dress,” Debbie said finally, once everything was sorted into categories, cross-referenced, and prioritized. 

Lou raised her eyebrows. “It’s a nice dress.”

Debbie smirked and rolled her eyes. “You like it, baby?”

“I do.”

“Yeah.” Debbie drew out the word with more than a hint of bitterness, dropping her flirtatious tone. “It’s what I was wearing the night _he_ framed me.”

Lou looked slightly sick. “Okay,” she agreed with a nod. “Burn the dress.”

Debbie nodded, pulling herself together. “I need to take a real shower,” she said in the same tone of voice she used for delegating tasks during a job. “I need to sleep for about a hundred hours, and I need a drink.”

Lou nodded and smirked. “I can help with that.”

“Thought you might,” Debbie said, intertwining her fingers with Lou’s and feeling steadier by the minute. Her body was starting to believe this was real, even if her brain hadn’t quite caught up yet. “Shower first?”

“Mm hmm,” Lou murmured against Debbie’s lips, “I love you.” She pulled Debbie towards the free-standing metal staircase that led to the upper floor of the loft.

“Love you, too,” Debbie replied softly, allowing herself to be led and feeling a current of joy run through her at the feel of the words on her tongue.

**

Lou’s bedroom had windows facing the bay and a large en-suite bathroom, which Debbie took to immediately. Lou watched her as she ran her fingers over the countertops and examined the ornate frame of the mirror.

“You do this with your cut, too?” Debbie asked, impressed.

“No, this was an earlier update,” Lou said, stepping into the bathroom from where she had been leaning against the doorframe. “I had it done about a year after I moved here, once the club started doing well. You like it?”

Debbie turned her head from left to right, taking in the everything from the shower tiles to the cabinetry. “I really do,” she said finally, smiling at Lou.

“Thanks.” Lou stepped forward and kissed her.

It was a casual and welcome gesture, and Debbie wondered when the kisses between them would start to feel normal and comfortable again instead of like a precious resource that had to be conserved. Lou’s hands traveled up Debbie’s arms and around to her back. She fiddled with the zipper of Debbie’s dress.

“May I?” she asked against Debbie’s mouth. 

Debbie took a deep breath, preparing for Lou to see the mottled bruising on her ribs and stomach. She herself had only managed one full glimpse of it in the showers that morning. “Please do,” Debbie replied, settling her hands onto Lou’s hips. Lou pulled the zipper down Debbie’s back without breaking eye contact. She kissed her softly again before turning Debbie to face the mirror and tugging her back against her chest. Debbie felt her breath quicken as she looked at their entwined reflections. Lou’s arm across her chest kept her dress from sliding off her, and Debbie was grateful for the chance to see herself before the revelation of her injuries.

Lou closed her eyes and pressed her mouth to Debbie’s temple, giving Debbie a sense of privacy that allowed her to take in her own reflection. Her hair was longer and wavier than she had realized, emphasizing the sharp angles of her face. The muscles of her neck and shoulders were more defined than they had been when she went to prison; it seemed as though her many hours in the gym had paid off. She tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek against Lou’s upper arm, now taking in the image of the two of them together.

“You look good, Debs,” Lou said quietly. Debbie let her eyes flick up to Lou’s face, just slightly above hers in the mirror. She hadn’t realized that Lou had opened her eyes again.

Debbie cracked a smile and saw herself blush. She didn’t exactly disagree with Lou, but the image of herself in the mirror didn’t quite fit the image of herself in her head. It would take some getting used to.

“You ready?” Lou asked.

Debbie sighed and nodded. Lou pushed the fabric slowly down Debbie’s arms and then let the dress slip over her hips to the floor.

“Jesus,” Lou muttered as her eyes raked over the purple and green bruises covering each side of Debbie’s ribcage and spreading out over her stomach. Her fingers traced over Debbie’s right side where the worst of the bruising was still red and a little swollen. Lou’s left hand found the clasp of Debbie’s bra.

“Yeah, go for it,” Debbie said before Lou could ask permission. The garment fell away within seconds, and Lou’s eyes – as Debbie had known they would – immediately found the scar around Debbie’s left breast.

There were tears in Lou’s eyes once more when she met Debbie’s gaze in the mirror, her hand resting protectively over the knotted skin. Lou cleared her throat. “When?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

Debbie sighed and covered Lou’s hand with her own. “I was stabbed five years ago by someone who…who wasn’t overly fond of Oceans,” Debbie explained calmly. She needed Lou to understand that she wasn’t haunted. “The prison thought it was a suicide attempt, so that’s how I ended up in solitary.”

Lou let her breath out in a long sigh that ruffled the hairs at the back of Debbie’s neck. 

Debbie closed her eyes and focused on the gentle caress of Lou’s right hand over her bruised ribs. “The bruises,” she began.

“Recent?” Lou asked.

Debbie winced as she opened her eyes. “Last Sunday,” Debbie replied.

Lou’s jaw tightened, and Debbie saw a flash of fury in her eyes. “Who?” she asked in a voice lower than Debbie had ever heard her use.

“He—Claude…” Debbie swallowed around nausea as she said his name. “He has a cousin. She got hired by the prison two weeks ago. I think…” She swallowed hard. It was difficult to talk about the encounter with Allison Becker, especially when she had processed so little of what happened with Claude himself. “I think I got off easy,” she finished finally. Unfortunately, it was true.

“That’s why you turned your phone over?”

“Yup. The past two weeks have been worse than the last five years.”

Lou nodded. She looked shattered, Debbie thought, more shattered than Debbie felt. But then, Debbie knew how she would feel if Lou’s body had gone through the same. It would have wrecked her.

“I’ll be okay, baby,” Debbie said softly.

“Does it,” Lou rubbed a hand across her own face, wiping away tears. “Does it hurt?”

Debbie shrugged. “Yes, it hurts,” she replied in a bored tone. “She beat the shit out of me. Fighting a guard…wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted to get out today, and _all I wanted_, baby, was to get out today.” 

Lou gave a humorless laugh at Debbie’s blasé tone. Debbie grinned a bit sheepishly. Lou passed her hands over the discolored flesh, circling each bruise with a tenderness that brought a tightness to Debbie’s chest. After many moments of silence, Lou’s hands stilled. Her left hand settled once more over Debbie’s scar; her right hand fell to Debbie’s hip, thumb rubbing slowly over her hip bone. Debbie gave a shaky sigh as her pulse quickened under Lou’s touch.

“I wouldn’t have picked you up on the bike if I’d known,” Lou said apologetically as she turned Debbie back around to face her.

“I know,” Debbie said as she methodically removed each of Lou’s many necklaces and piled them on the counter. “But I didn’t want to miss such excellent foreplay over bruised ribs.”

Lou flicked her eyes to the ceiling with an exasperated expression. “Please tell me that’s not the reason you didn’t tell me.”

Debbie smirked. “Not a texting conversation, baby,” she said simply.

Lou nodded.

Debbie dropped her fingers to the buttons of Lou’s grey vest and raised an eyebrow at her. “Shall I?”

“God, yes.”

Debbie kept her movements restrained and careful as she removed Lou’s clothing, aware that she might not be the only one with new scars. “New tattoo?” she asked, as she slid Lou’s matching blazer down her arms and noticed the ink on her right bicep.

“Couple years,” Lou said with a shrug. “Got it around the same time I redid this bathroom actually. The club was doing well, with only a tiny bit of help around the margins—”

Debbie winked at that and then went back to Lou’s buttons.

“—so, I treated myself to a few things.”

Debbie nodded and pressed her palm against Lou’s exposed stomach, relishing the way her muscles twitched at her touch. Lou’s bra was light blue and designed to tease; Debbie’s mouth went slightly dry as she toyed with the front clasp.

“_Off_,” Lou said firmly.

Debbie flicked the clasp open and pushed both bra and vest to the floor. Six years in prison and ten years without Lou had given Debbie more than enough time to fantasize. As with their kiss during Lou’s first unsupervised visit back in March, none of her fantasies of Lou came close to _this_. Debbie felt her lips part and her tongue flick out to moisten her dry mouth as she looked at Lou’s bare breasts. Lou cleared her throat. It took more effort than Debbie cared to admit for her to drag her eyes back to Lou’s face.

“See something you like?” Lou asked. She stuck her tongue in her cheek as she looked at Debbie. 

“Hi…uh…” Debbie stammered.

Lou snickered and shook her head. “It _has _been a while.”

Debbie furrowed her brow with regret. “It’s been ten _fucking _years, Lou.”

“I know, honey,” Lou said, serious once more. “I know.”

The rest of their clothing joined the pile on the floor, and Lou started the shower. Debbie winced at the feeling of the spray on her bruises, but she knew the hot water would help in the long run. Lou pulled Debbie back against her chest once more, and Debbie tilted her head back to rest against Lou’s shoulder. She sighed as she let Lou take most of her weight.

“Hey, don’t fell asleep on me yet, Ocean,” Lou said, nudging her gently into a standing position.

“I won’t,” Debbie murmured, but she didn’t open her eyes. Debbie’s brain short circuited as Lou began massaging shampoo into her scalp. It had been ten years since she had been touched like this, and Lou was the only one who she had _ever_ allowed to be this close. How had it taken so long for her to realize that she was in love with her, had _been _in love with her since…? When _had _she…? Where…? Debbie’s thoughts fluttered through her mind like smoke, impossible to pin down. Lou finished rinsing Debbie’s hair and rubbed soap between her hands before massaging it into Debbie’s shoulders. Debbie moaned.

“Feel good?” Lou asked. 

“Practically orgasmic.”

“Oh, we’ll get to that.”

Debbie smiled and shook her head. “I’m becoming a fucking _sap_, Lou.”

“Hm.” Lou seemed to consider Debbie’s statement carefully. “You’ve got a ways to go, and I think you get a pass when you’ve just been released from prison.”

“Good to know,” Debbie said through a smile that she knew Lou would hear in her voice.

Lou finished with Debbie’s back and slid her hands around her hips. She rested her chin on Debbie’s shoulder and carefully spread soap over Debbie’s torso. Her touch was exceedingly gentle – gentler, in fact, than Debbie had been with herself that morning in the prison shower before her release – and the bruises barely hurt under the soft pressure of Lou’s hands. At last, Lou slid up to Debbie’s breasts, and Debbie gasped.

“I love you,” Lou murmured in Debbie’s ear, kneading her flesh and rolling Debbie’s nipples between her fingers.

Debbie whimpered in response, unable to form coherent words. Her body, which had been close to utter exhaustion mere minutes ago, was now buzzing with anticipation as Lou’s fingers elicited half-forgotten sensations.

“I want to take you to bed,” Lou whispered.

“Please,” Debbie managed to say in a voice thick with arousal. Lou helped Debbie rinse the soap from her skin and then dry off in the bathroom. Debbie couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the way Lou was looking at her as though she could eat her alive. Lou led her into the bedroom and helped her climb onto the bed. Even the simplest of motions were slightly painful, and Debbie wasn’t entirely sure how sex was going to work out. However, she would rather go back to prison than deny herself _this_, bruises be damned.

“What do you want?” Lou asked, lying on her side next to Debbie with her head propped up on one hand and the fingers of the other tracing slow, tortuous circles around Debbie’s left nipple. Debbie arched into the touch and struggled to speak.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” she said through a gasp. “I just want you.”

There were times when Lou would have waited for her to beg, but the softness in her eyes today told Debbie that she wasn't in that kind of mood. Lou smiled and flung a leg over Debbie’s hips, straddling her. The sight of Lou above her and the feel of Lou’s arousal pressed against her abdomen was enough to send another wave of electric heat all the way out to Debbie’s fingertips. Lou’s movements were slow and precise, and Debbie felt loved and safe as Lou settled her forearms on either side of Debbie’s head, eyes bright but hooded with desire. Lou kissed her briefly – almost chastely – and then pulled back for a second to read something in Debbie’s face. Debbie’s mind was whirring out of control, and she wondered if Lou could see that in her eyes. But then Lou was kissing her again – deeply and relentlessly this time – and Debbie lost the ability to wonder anything at all. Lou moved over her like water, soothing and strong.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” Lou requested quietly, lips brushing the sensitive skin by Debbie’s ear.

Debbie shivered and nodded. “I will.”

Lou shifted to the side so that one of her thighs pressed between Debbie’s. Debbie spread her legs unabashedly, amazed in spite of herself at how wet she already was. She supposed it wasn’t that surprising – not when she had been daydreaming of Lou for ten years – but she was pleased by it nonetheless. If Lou’s soft moan was anything to go by, she was pleased, too. Lou licked along Debbie’s jaw and down the side of her neck, stopping when she reached the join of Debbie’s neck and shoulder. It was a particularly sensitive spot, and Debbie couldn’t remember if that had always been true or whether it had become that way because Lou favored it. Lou nipped and sucked at the skin before rolling her tongue over the mark she had made. Debbie whimpered and rolled her hips into Lou’s thigh. 

“Mine,” Lou whispered.

Debbie smiled with her eyes closed. “Yours.”

“I want to taste you,” Lou murmured as her fingers of her right hand danced up and down Debbie’s inner thighs.

“Mm,” Debbie hummed somewhat thoughtfully. “Not yet,” she murmured, “plenty of time for that later. I want you right here.” The thought of Lou’s tongue between her legs sent a heady thrill through her whole body, but first she needed her warm and close above her. Debbie wrapped an arm around Lou’s back and traced spirals on her skin, pleased when Lou hummed her apparent contentment. Debbie spread her legs wider as Lou’s fingers teased through her arousal, spreading slick heat over her. 

“Jesus _Christ_, Debbie,” Lou murmured. Her forehead fell to Debbie’s shoulder. 

“I missed you,” Debbie said into Lou’s hair. She attempted a frank tone, but it came out breathier than intended.

Lou smiled against Debbie’s collarbone. “Do you want me inside you, Debs?” Her voice was heavy and rough with arousal.

“_God, _yes.”

“Look at me?” Lou said, the hint of a question in her voice as she pulled her face out of the crook of Debbie’s neck to meet her eyes once more. 

Debbie’s heart clenched at the tentative note in Lou’s voice, the subtle request that allowed Debbie to refuse. She didn’t refuse, though. She fixed her eyes on Lou’s and let herself drown. “I love you,” Debbie whispered, heart high in her throat. Lou pressed two fingers inside her, slow and sure. “Oh,” Debbie arched her back, ignoring the twinge in her ribs as she pressed herself against Lou’s chest.

Lou brushed Debbie’s damp hair from her forehead. “I love you, too,” she murmured, sliding her fingers carefully back and forth within Debbie’s heat. Debbie relished the stretch after all these years. All the same, she appreciated Lou’s caution because it showed a side of her soul that Debbie had missed – the caring, human side that Debbie was so proud of knowing.

“So good, baby,” Debbie managed to gasp as Lou increased the depth and speed of her thrusts. She kept her eyes open and fixed on Lou’s, seeing the importance of _this _reflected back to her in Lou’s eyes.

“I love you,” Lou said again, said it over and over as Debbie’s panting turned to rhythmic whimpers of pleasure. “I love you, I love you.”

It was as though she were trying to make up for all the times they hadn’t said the words, all the years they’d spent maintaining a false distance. Debbie knew because she felt the same, wasn’t sure she would ever overcome that regret. And yet, here they were, and focusing on what could have been was far from what they both deserved. The heat in Debbie’s body built and coiled until it shattered her. She pressed herself into Lou, trembling against her and seeing stars in front of her open eyes.

Her eyelids finally fluttered closed of their own accord as Lou pulled out of her and massaged her back to relaxation. It was perfect; _she _was perfect, and Debbie wanted to tell her, but her limbs were leaden, and her tongue refused to cooperate enough to form anything coherent. Six years’ worth of exhaustion crashed over her, and Debbie thought she heard herself weeping in relief as Lou helped her slide between the sheets of her bed; _their_ bed? She felt Lou slide from the bed and almost cried out for her, but she was back within moments. And then there were soft hands rubbing something soothing onto the battered skin of her torso and a cool weight settling across her ribs, easing the throbbing pain of her bruises. A sense of complete calm washed over Debbie as Lou settled next to her and tucked her chin on Debbie’s shoulder.

“Sleep, Jailbird. I love you. I’ll stay. I _love_ you. You’re home,” Lou’s voice murmured on and on. Debbie felt as though she were falling right _into _that voice, the voice she had missed for ten years. She slept hard and deep in fits and starts as golden rays of afternoon sunshine traveled slowly across the room. Each time she woke, Lou was there beside her to stroke her hair, to swap out the cold pack on her ribs, to tell her she was beautiful. Sometimes, Debbie managed to respond with gentle words and the soft caress of her fingertips across Lou’s skin. Lou slept, too, for a while, and when Debbie woke in the early evening, she was mesmerized by the flutter of Lou’s eyelashes against her cheeks and the steady movement of her chest as she breathed deeply.

“My girl,” Debbie murmured as her eyelids grew heavy once more. She reached out and touched Lou’s shoulder to make sure she was real, careful not to wake her. “I love you,” she whispered. She let her eyes fall closed once more, and at last, Debbie believed she was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised fluff, I promised smut, I promised soft! Here it is. <3


	7. The Simple Life

_The motorcycle was warm and alive between Lou’s thighs, but it was nothing compared to the woman sitting behind her, arms wrapped around Lou’s waist and hips slotted perfectly against her own. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know that it was Debbie pressed up against her. No one else had ever fit so well right _there _– no one else had ever really bothered to try. _

_The sun beat down on endless miles of perfect pavement – yellow lines against black fading around the next corner and the next. The sea flickered on their left far, far below. The view was almost as beautiful as Debbie, Lou thought. Not quite, though. The ocean could be dangerous, and Debbie Ocean could be dangerous, too, but not to Lou. Not anymore, anyway. Lou could see the sharp edge of a ring underneath the glove on her own left hand. _

_The air smelled like pine and salt, like petrol and Armani perfume. The colors around Lou blurred to rainbows at the corners of her eyes, and she _knew_ this was a dream. Still, she reveled in it. They were standing on the beach now, bare feet in the surf. The waves were made of sunlight and the sand gleamed like diamonds. Lou could sense Debbie standing next to her, a constant presence as sure as the tide washing up the beach… _

**

The dream faded into reality, and when Lou blinked her eyes open, Debbie was there beside her. Not standing on the California coast – not _yet _anyway – but there in the bed next to her, breathing slowly and deeply, solid and real. Lou hadn’t intended to fall asleep when she curled up next to Debbie on the bed, but there was something about listening to Debbie’s steady breaths that eventually lulled her into a nap. Lou could tell she hadn’t slept very long, though the dream had seemed luxurious when she was in it. The cold pack across Debbie’s ribs was still fairly cool, and the sun had not yet set over the bay. Lou wondered if Debbie had woken up again while Lou was sleeping. If she had, there was no sign of her moving at all. Lou looked at her, amazed that after so many hours of watching her, Debbie still took her breath away. Lou pushed herself into a sitting position and let the blankets fall around her hips. With careful movements, she lifted the cold pack from Debbie’s torso and surveyed her skin. It looked a bit red from the cold, but the swelling on her right rib cage had definitely gone down.

Lou’s eyes were drawn repeatedly to the scar around Debbie’s left breast. She knew it was old now, and she knew from the way Debbie had spoken about it that she had long since overcome any emotional scars from the experience. Still, the scar was new to Lou, and trauma was complex. Finally getting out of prison was bound to be emotionally chaotic, and Lou knew that Debbie had planned for her release to be very different. Not for the first time, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last either, Lou wished that she could turn back the clocks and change the outcome of Debbie’s parole hearing. Before Lou could go too deeply into that rabbit hole however, Debbie shifted and blinked her eyes open.

“Hey, baby,” she murmured, “you watching me sleep?”

Lou blushed and felt her mouth twitch into a smile. “Uh…yeah, I was,” she admitted, not quite meeting Debbie’s eyes. It almost hurt to look directly at her, as though Debbie were still something for which she was hoping with all her heart, rather than solid flesh and blood.

“Thinking?” Debbie asked, reaching up to place a gentle hand on Lou’s cheek to turn her face back towards her. 

Lou nodded. “Yeah, just thinking that you should’ve been at that goddamn Met Ball with me.”

Debbie smiled understandingly and moved herself gingerly into a sitting position. “Yeah,” she agreed, in a voice that sounded bright and familiar, a voice that made Lou’s heart sing. “Yeah, I should’ve been speaking German to Heidi Fucking Klum, but I wa—”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lou asked, holding up a hand to interrupt her.

Debbie yawned and stretched as best she could with her injuries. “Mm hmm, did I not mention that part?”

“Uh…no? You were going to walk the red carpet?”

“Yes, I was,” Debbie said as though it were obvious.

“At the fucking Met Gala? On parole?”

“Uh, yeah,” Debbie brushed away Lou’s questions. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lou snorted with laughter and flopped onto the bed. Debbie winced as the mattress bounced and put a hand to her ribs. “Sorry,” Lou said, immediately concerned.

Debbie shook her head. “It’s fine, baby. Feels a lot better, actually. Thanks to you.” She winked at Lou and swung her legs off the side of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Lou asked suspiciously, sitting up once more and sliding a hand over one of Debbie’s to interlock their fingers. “I can get you anything you want. This place is full service for recently incarcerated felons.”

Debbie rolled her eyes and brought Lou’s hand to her lips. “I appreciate that, but unless you want to bring me a chamber pot, I’m going to insist on getting out of this bed every so often.”

Lou wrinkled her nose and lay down again. “Okay. Fine. Go.” She released Debbie’s hand and patted it once.

Lou tried not to read too much into the slightly uneven nature of Debbie’s footsteps as she made her way to the bathroom. Debbie’s ribs would heal, Lou told herself, and in the meantime, it seemed as though Debbie was more than willing to take care of herself _and _allow Lou to help her. That was a change from the Debbie Ocean that Lou remembered. Another change nagged at the back of Lou’s mind: Debbie had _cried_. Tears had poured from her eyes as Lou tucked her into bed, and Debbie hadn’t tried to hide them or even wipe them away. Lou had never seen Debbie cry like that. She didn’t _blame_ her, of course. If anything, she felt overwhelmingly grateful that Debbie could bring herself to that level of vulnerability around her. Still, the bruises, the tears, and the way Debbie’s eyes seemed to dart back and forth a little more than Lou remembered as though she were trying to process a thousand feelings at once – all of it made Lou very attuned to everything Debbie did. Then again, perhaps she would have been that way even if Debbie had come back unscathed and icy as ever. Pining after someone for ten years (give or take) was more than enough to make one hyper-aware of that someone’s actions.

“You’re thinking again,” Debbie said, nestling back under the blankets next to Lou and running her fingers through her hair.

Lou leaned into her touch and closed her eyes. “I’ve never seen you cry, Debs. Not like that,” Lou said. Wherever the future was taking them, Lou was going to make damn sure that they started off with honesty.

“I barely even remember it,” Debbie said softly.

Lou cracked an eye open curiously. “What do you mean?”

Debbie shrugged and smirked. “I remember having a _truly _fantastic orgasm, and then from there everything is very blurry. I think my brain finally reached capacity.”

“Wow,” Lou said in mock amazement. “Didn’t think it was possible for Oceans to get to that point.”

“Neither did I,” Debbie shot back, “You learn something new every day.”

The banter warmed Lou’s heart and she nuzzled her face into Debbie’s shoulder. Debbie stroked her hair, and Lou wondered if there were things about prison that Debbie wasn’t telling her, things that would make some sense of the changes Lou had noticed. But then, Lou reminded herself yet again, ten years was a long time. People changed over the course of a decade. She _herself _had changed. Perhaps she was being paranoid and over-protective. Debbie would tell her if something was wrong. Debbie loved her, trusted her. Debbie _loved _her…

“Fuck, Lou, you really need to stop _thinking_,” Debbie chided.

“You’re one to talk, Ocean,” she said in mock indignation. “No one overanalyzes better than you.”

“I don’t know, baby. Part of my charm is that I analyze the perfect amount.”

Lou grinned against Debbie’s collarbone in spite of herself and planted a kiss to Debbie’s shoulder as she shifted a little to meet Debbie’s gaze. “You’ll talk to me, right Debs? If something’s…wrong?”

Debbie gave her a hard, honest look. “Yes, Lou. I’m _done_ not talking to you, baby,” Debbie said. “I promise.”

Lou felt a lump rise in her throat at the sincerity in Debbie’s face. “Honey…” she began.

“I’m serious, Lou,” Debbie said. “I might cry more, and I’m not always gonna know why. A lot of shit happened that I need to think through. But I’m _okay_, baby. I really am. And…” She swallowed hard, and Lou saw tears glistening in her eyes. “And I _love _you. I’ll never say it enough – I know that. But I _do _love you.”

“I love you, too, Debs.” Lou shifted so she could lean over Debbie and kiss her, careful not to lean too hard on her bruised ribs. Debbie hummed against her mouth, and Lou deepened the kiss. She tasted like Lou’s mouthwash, which she must have found in the bathroom. Lou sucked Debbie’s lower lip into her mouth, pleased with the moan she received in response. The heat built slowly between them, languid and warm like the evening sunlight filling the room. Lou felt Debbie relax into the pillows, kissing Lou back until their lips were swollen and tingling.

“Taste me,” Debbie breathed in Lou’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“That’s what you want?” Lou asked against Debbie’s mouth.

“That’s what I want,” Debbie confirmed, spreading her legs as an invitation for Lou to slide her hips between them. Lou took her time kissing her way down Debbie’s body. She skipped over her breasts at first and glanced up at Debbie with her lips hovering over her scar.

“I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you again,” Lou said. Her voice rumbled in her chest. She hadn’t meant for it to sound so threatening, and Debbie’s eyes darkened and seemed to grow deeper at the words.

“I know, baby,” Debbie said, reaching down to pass her fingers through Lou’s hair.

Lou kissed the place where the scar curved around her breast. Debbie closed her eyes and tilted her head back on the pillows. Her fingers massaged Lou’s scalp with a gentle pressure, keeping her mouth in place against her skin. When she felt the scar had received ample attention, Lou shifted her focus to each of Debbie’s bruises in turn. She licked around each one with delicate strokes. Debbie laughed affectionately at her ministrations, but squirmed pleasurably all the same when Lou hit on sensitive spots. Eventually, Lou paused with her tongue flicking teasingly over Debbie’s hip bone. Their eyes locked, and Debbie took a deep breath.

Lou surged upwards and licked into Debbie’s mouth once more. Debbie gasped in surprise and then melted under her, hands coming up to grip Lou’s shoulders. Lou didn’t linger on Debbie’s lips. Instead, she moved her mouth down the side of Debbie’s neck to her collarbone, and then finally to her right breast. She paused for a moment, allowing her breath to pass over Debbie’s nipple and watching it harden. Lou’s mouth watered, and when she finally took it in her mouth, they both moaned. Debbie’s hips were rolling rhythmically into Lou’s stomach by the time Lou released Debbie’s breast with a pop of her lips and gave the opposite nipple a final pinch between her fingertips. Debbie whimpered at the combined sensation, and Lou felt her trembling as she finally settled herself between Debbie’s legs.

Debbie’s eyes were mostly closed, but Lou could tell she was trying to keep them open to watch her. Her eyelids fluttered open and shut as Lou used her hands to press Debbie’s thighs apart and a little up, lifting Debbie’s feet slightly off the mattress. She was already glistening with arousal. Lou had forgotten how much she had missed her scent, and she breathed her in as she spread Debbie open with her thumbs, rubbing firm circles against warm, damp skin.

Debbie sighed. “_Fuck_, that feels good,” she muttered.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lou murmured back. Speaking grounded her in reality, made her remember that this wasn’t just a dream. She began with delicate swipes of her tongue, testing spots she remembered and swooning when Debbie arched her back as she licked over them. Even after ten years, this felt familiar and so, _so _good. Debbie’s hand came to rest on the back of Lou’s head, and she took it as an invitation to increase the pressure of her tongue. The taste of her was intoxicating and warm, and it felt as though that warmth was filling Lou right to her core. It didn’t take long for Debbie to begin to unravel. Words fell from her mouth in a jumble of encouragement as Lou sucked her into her mouth and flicked her tongue at the same time. Debbie whimpered, and she grasped for Lou’s hand with the fingers that weren’t tangled in Lou’s hair. Lou gripped her hand reassuringly and slipped one long finger inside her, thrusting deep and acting on memories that told her this was what Debbie needed. Sure enough, Debbie’s whole body went taut, and her cry of pleasure was muffled in the pillow as she turned her head to the side. Lou kept licking over her until the fingers in her hair tugged gently, and she retraced her journey back up Debbie’s body. Debbie moaned into Lou’s mouth as Lou’s lips found hers, surely tasting herself on Lou’s tongue.

“You’re good, baby,” Debbie whispered as they broke apart, resting her forehead against Lou’s.

“Good enough to eat?”

“Is that a request?”

“If you’re up for it, honey.” Lou said it through a smirk, but she was serious, and she knew Debbie would sense that even through the banter.

“I’m _truly _always up for it,” Debbie said with a grin and a matter-of-fact tone. She tugged at Lou’s hip. “Get up here.”

“…Oh,” Lou said, momentarily surprised as she realized Debbie’s intention. “Are you sure?” she asked, moving to place her knees on either side of Debbie’s head, as Debbie slid further down the bed.

“Baby, you’re _dripping_,” Debbie murmured. It wasn't an answer to Lou’s question, but the enthusiasm in her tone left Lou in no doubt of what Debbie wanted.

“All for you, honey,” Lou replied. The words dissolved into a whimper as Debbie tilted her head upwards and ran the flat of her tongue over her. Lou teetered slightly on her knees and grabbed the headboard for support.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you,” Debbie murmured. Her voice vibrated against Lou as her arms wrapped securely around Lou’s thighs. Lou settled herself on Debbie’s mouth and felt a familiar swoop in her stomach as she surrendered to the sensations. She lost track of Debbie’s movements, only aware of her white-knuckled grip on the headboard and the pressure building in her core.

“Right _there_, honey, don’t stop,” Lou muttered, speaking through a haze of pleasure and feeling detached from her own voice. “So good, Debs.” She licked her lips and realized that she could still taste Debbie in her mouth; the thought made her thighs tremble, which in turn made Debbie moan.

“So sensitive, baby.” Debbie kept her mouth firmly against Lou as she spoke and then planted a wet kiss directly over Lou’s entrance. Lou groaned and couldn’t prevent her hips from grinding down against Debbie’s mouth. She felt Debbie laugh quietly as she tilted her head and slid her tongue into her. Lou arched her back and mirrored the slow circling of Debbie’s tongue with her hips. Debbie’s breath ghosted over Lou’s aroused skin as she breathed through her nose, tickling and caressing her. The combined sensations spiraled and tautened in Lou’s muscles until she broke in a warm gush of wetness around Debbie’s tongue. Debbie continued to lick over her – back and forth, back and forth in a soothing pattern. Lou took a deep, shaky breath as she came back to herself and looked down to catch a smug gleam in Debbie’s eyes. It made Lou swoon yet again to recognize the pride Debbie took in pleasuring her.

“I missed you,” Lou said in a rough voice as she finally pushed herself back down the bed to drape herself gently over Debbie’s body, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on her bruised torso.

“Memories aren’t enough, are they?” Debbie asked in response. Her eyes searched Lou’s face, darting and tracing in a wistful sort of way. She still looked proud, but there was also a hint of sadness and conflict in her gaze. 

“Hm.” Lou planted a kiss to Debbie’s collar bone. “No. Memories were never enough, Debs.”

“I missed you, Lou,” Debbie whispered. “I thought I was okay after you left. I really did – sad, but okay.” She smiled weakly and passed her fingers through Lou’s hair. Lou rested her cheek on Debbie’s breast and gazed up at her, entranced and moved by the raw emotion in Debbie’s tone that Lou had rarely heard before. It flared up sometimes when Debbie was really desperate, but before this she had always bottled it up so quickly that if Lou blinked she could miss it. Things were different now. “It took a while, but eventually it all went to shit,” Debbie went on in a low voice, staring off into space even as Lou gazed unblinkingly into her eyes. “Claude…” Debbie swallowed hard and shook her head almost imperceptibly as if banishing him from her conscience. “I never blamed you for leaving,” Debbie said, eyes focusing back on Lou with a suddenness that made Lou’s pulse race. “_Never_, baby,” she emphasized, tracing Lou’s eyebrow with her thumb.

Lou sighed at the touch. “I shouldn’t have left,” Lou said. “No,” she went on quickly as Debbie made to contradict her. “No, I don’t regret it. I know why I needed a change. I…well, it’s like there are two opposite things that are both true: I shouldn’t have left _and _I needed to go.” Lou shook her head and laughed bitterly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Debbie’s lip twitched in the echo of a grin. “I think it does. I never blamed you for leaving, and I blamed myself for going to prison. Neither of those is really…accurate. You chose to leave; it wasn’t my fault.” Lou nodded grimly, feeling that Debbie needed some validation for that statement, needed to know that Lou wouldn’t take offense at it. Debbie looked relieved. “Claude sent me to prison,” Debbie went on. “I couldn’t have…gotten thrown in there on my own. He…I didn’t like the person I was when I was with him,” Debbie admitted. Lou wasn’t sure what that meant, but she trusted she would find out in time if Debbie needed to tell her. “I was trying too hard to forget about you,” Debbie said. It was a hint of an explanation, and it was enough for Lou to know that the hurt Claude had caused was deeply emotional and personal, nothing like the physical marks on Debbie’s body inflicted by his cousin. It made Lou feel sick to think about it.

“It wasn’t your fault, honey,” Lou said.

“I know,” Debbie said firmly, finding Lou’s hand and squeezing it. “I know.” She chewed her lower lip and stared at a point over Lou’s shoulder. “I never loved him, Lou,” she said quietly. “He hurt me – and I promise I’ll process it one day, and I’ll want to talk about it then – but I need you to know he didn’t break my heart, okay? I never…”

Lou raised her head slightly and reached up to cup Debbie’s cheek, encouraging Debbie to meet her gaze. “Thank you for telling me that,” she said quietly, looking deep into Debbie’s eyes and seeing uncertainty in her gaze. “I…I did wonder.”

“I loved you the whole time,” Debbie whispered. “I didn't know it then, but I did. I did.” 

“I really love you.” Lou hoped that Debbie could hear the unconditional promise behind her words.

“Feels nice to say it, doesn’t it?” Debbie said with a wink.

“Yes,” Lou replied. “I’ve waited a long time.”

Debbie smiled a bit sadly again. “We wasted a lot of time, didn't we?” she muttered.

Lou shifted up the bed so she could lie on her right side next to Debbie. “It doesn’t matter, Debs. We have as much time as we want now. Forever, if you want.”

“Forever,” Debbie echoed musingly. She leaned forward and kissed Lou. Lou closed her eyes and thought of the ring she was working on with Amita. They had settled on a setting, and Amita was looking for the right stones. A part of her wanted to ask Debbie now, today. But it was still Debbie’s first day out, and she didn’t want to overwhelm her. They needed to live into loving each other for a little while before making it official. Lou had no doubt that Debbie would say yes, but she wanted it to be as spectacular and interesting as Debbie herself. Besides, today was already as close to perfect as any day could be.

“I wonder how long it would have taken me to say it if I had gotten out in March,” Debbie said as she ended their kiss at last.

Lou nuzzled her neck but said nothing.

“You know it was right after that first unsupervised visit that I realized? Right after my parole was denied?”

“What did you realize?” Lou asked, glancing up briefly from the mark she was working into Debbie’s neck.

“I realized I loved you,” Debbie replied, eyebrows raised as though it were obvious.

Lou smiled against Debbie’s skin. _Oh, Debs_, she thought fondly. _You would have figured it out eventually no matter what_. “I realized I loved you the day you called me to say you were being sentenced,” Lou told her.

Debbie sighed and closed her eyes, clearly remembering. “So, _that _was what you were going to say?”

“Yup, but then the line cut out.”

Debbie shook her head. “Took a lot of luck to get here, baby.”

“Thought you didn’t believe in luck.”

“Not when it comes to jobs,” Debbie said, “but you’ve never been a mark, Lou. You know what else I realized during that visit?”

“No, what’s that?”

“That I would have given up the Met Job to be able to walk out of that room _with_ you that day.” Debbie’s jaw was set, and her eyes were hard and dark. Lou felt her own lips part slightly in surprise. She had never expected that from Debbie. She had never even _wanted _that. Jobs were a deep, inherent part of Debbie – a part of her that Lou loved as much as she loved _any _and _all _parts of her. Debbie’s words made the uncertainties about her well-being flood back into Lou’s mind. 

Lou cleared her throat. “Honey, I won’t ever ask you to be someone you’re not,” she said seriously. “I love _you_, Debbie. _You_. All of you. Your mind, your, I don’t know, your _soul_, maybe. And the jobs too.”

Debbie blushed. “I know. I really do.”

“Good.”

“And to be honest,” Debbie went on with a familiar smirk coloring her tone. “To be honest, the feeling lasted maybe ten seconds before I started reconsidering whether I really could give up the job. But it _was _the closest I ever came to trying to make a bargain with the universe, and that really _is_ saying something.”

With the help of the added context, and the smirk, Lou relaxed. “You know, I’m actually relieved to hear that?” she said.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going soft,” Debbie assured her. “At least, not completely. That’s your job, okay, baby? You’re better at it anyway.”

Lou placed a series of very gentle kisses across Debbie’s left shoulder, down her breast, and over her knotted scar, shifting into a sitting position as she did so. “Yeah, honey” she said when she had finished and was once more looking down into Debbie’s eyes. “I am.”

Debbie smiled up at Lou with tears in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more soft shit for your Saturday (or Sunday I suppose, depending on time zones) <3


	8. Four Thousand Dollars of Pinot Noir

There were only two options for dinner.

“Chinese or Italian?” Lou asked over her shoulder as she pulled on a lacy black bralette and black boxer briefs.

Debbie looked up from where she lay spread-eagled on the bed, apparently attempting to take up as much space as possible. Lou couldn’t blame her. The king-size bed had to be at least three times the size of her prison cot. “Chinese,” Debbie replied, “You still have that silk robe I like?”

“Yeah,” Lou replied, “It’s on the bed in the room next door. I figured you would want it.”

“Mm hmm. Thanks, baby.” Debbie winced as she sat up and swung her legs off the bed.

Lou felt a pang of sympathy. “Any better?” she asked with a nod towards Debbie’s bruises. Debbie grimaced and shrugged. Lou didn’t pursue the subject, but she made a mental note to offer her some anti-inflammatories and a cold pack before bed later.

Debbie brushed past Lou, leaving a soft kiss on the back of her neck that made Lou shiver. It had never been quite like this. Easy domesticity wasn’t a luxury they had been able to explore in the old days when they had to live job-to-job. The closest they had come was the Paris vacation that Tammy had gifted them when she “retired,” but that had been in a fancy hotel, outside of their normal life. This was new, and Lou hoped that it would always feel this good, hoped that Debbie’s new tendency towards a bit more vulnerability was something that would linger past the initial culture shock of getting out of prison. Perhaps it would sweeten and mature with time and become something hopeful rather than nostalgic. Perhaps _this_ was their future. And speaking of getting better with age…

“Hey,” Lou poked her head through the doorway of the room next to hers. She was careful not to step over the threshold without an invitation. This space was Debbie’s until Lou was informed otherwise.

Debbie turned to look at her. “Yeah?” 

“I have a wildly expensive Pinot Noir downstairs. You want some?”

Debbie’s eyes lit up as she pulled on the silk robe Lou had laid out for her. “I really would. It’s not watered down is it?”

“Fuck off, Ocean,” Lou scoffed. Debbie smirked. Lou’s heart clenched, and her mouth went dry at the sight of Debbie in the loosely-tied robe.

“Baby?” Debbie prompted with a knowing look in her eye.

Lou cleared her throat and dragged her eyes from the drape of the robe’s neckline up to Debbie’s eyes. “Shall I order the food? What do you want?”

Debbie winked and took Lou’s hand as she joined her at the doorway. “Whatever you like. Everything’s going to taste good to me after prison food.” She planted a soft kiss on Lou’s cheek.

**

Lou ordered enough food to create leftovers for the next three days. She didn’t want to be bothered by the need to cook on these first days of Debbie’s freedom. Since she knew that Debbie usually enjoyed eating directly from take-out containers, Lou gave her a preemptive withering stare as she handed her a plate. Debbie rolled her eyes but accepted the plate without argument. The doorbell rang as Lou was pouring wine, and she motioned for Debbie to answer it. Lou smiled to herself as she heard the muffled sounds of Debbie flirting with the delivery boy who was clearly just as captivated by Debbie’s attire as Lou had been. When Debbie reappeared with boxes in hand, she was practically glowing. Lou raised her eyebrows.

“You didn’t pay for this, did you?” Lou asked, already knowing the answer.

Debbie snorted. “Of course not. I tipped the kid, but he was far too distracted to remember that you hadn’t given a card number on the phone.”

“Being able to pay for take-out with plastic makes it almost too easy,” Lou said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, takes a bit of the fun out of it,” Debbie agreed. “You should’ve have seen his _face_, Lou.” She began unloading the take-out containers onto the poker table and scooping significant helpings of everything onto her plate.

“Did he even look at your face once?”

“Of course not.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Lou mused as she handed Debbie a glass of wine. “Cheers, honey.”

“Cheers,” Debbie said, clinking her glass against Lou’s. She sipped her wine slowly with her eyes closed, and Lou watched her swallow with desire already stirring once more in her abdomen.

“Good?” Lou prompted when Debbie’s eyes blinked open.

“Fuck,” Debbie said. “_So _good. I didn’t realize how much I missed wine.”

“Yeah, well, this stuff is about a thousand dollars per glass, so I’m glad you like it.”

“Holy shit, seriously?”

“Seriously.” Lou grinned and sipped from her own glass. The flavor burst on her tongue and slid down her throat like a warm breeze. It really was exceptional wine.

Debbie nodded slowly as she sat down, swirling the wine in her glass with interest. “I’m intrigued.”

“I bought it last week with a bit of my cut. Wanted to share it with you.” Lou sat down and scooped some rice onto her plate.

“You _bought _it?”

“I bought it.”

Debbie paused with a bite of sesame chicken half-way to her mouth. She put down her chopsticks and fiddled with her napkin. “That’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever bought for me,” she said softly.

Lou smiled and felt herself blush. She averted her eyes from Debbie’s and piled a variety of vegetables and meat on her plate. “It was the least I could do since you got me the money.”

“_Lou_.”

“Yeah?” Lou looked up, alerted by the seriousness of Debbie’s tone.

Debbie smiled and reached across the table to briefly cup Lou’s cheek. “Thanks.”

Lou stared into her eyes for a moment, then nodded and returned to her meal. They ate in silence. Debbie seemed to be chewing very intentionally, savoring every bite. Lou was pleased to see her eating. Under the bruises, Debbie’s ribs were more prominent than usual. After their plates were clear, Lou poured Debbie a second glass of wine and insisted that she relax while Lou packaged the leftovers. Once that was done and the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Lou joined Debbie on the couch. Debbie looked pensive and a little lost. Lou knew it was her job to break the silence.

“Do you want to hear about the Met?” Lou asked, a little unsure of whether that would only serve to remind Debbie that she hadn’t been there.

Debbie’s face lit up, and Lou smiled back in relief. “I really do,” Debbie said. “What were the highlights?”

Lou took a sip of wine as she thought about it, running over the heist in her head. “Nine Ball found out that the guy in charge of the Met security cameras loved Wheaton terriers, so she sent him a virus in an email that was full of clip art dog photos.”

Debbie laughed. “Nice. How was Rose? She sounded fantastic on paper, but you said she was a bit of a weak link.”

“She ended up being a real asset,” Lou replied, “but when I first tracked her down, she was knee-deep in a jar of Nutella and reading some blogger’s bullshit about herself.”

“Jesus. I mean, her stuff _has _gone downhill from what I recall.”

“It’s better now. She’s opening a showroom on the Upper East Side.”

Debbie sipped her wine contemplatively. “And Tammy? She hasn’t been to visit me since April.” Her voice was slightly hesitant, and Lou deduced that Tammy’s last visit to the prison had been when Debbie told her to bring in Claude Becker. Lou brushed the thought away. She didn’t want to talk about that argument; the job was over now, and all was forgiven. 

“Still mostly retired – from big, flashy jobs anyway, still married, still _brilliant_,” Lou rattled off, ticking off Tammy’s characteristics on her fingers. Debbie raised her eyebrows and smirked over the rim of her glass of wine. Lou rolled her eyes. “Still _straight_, Deborah.”

Debbie scoffed. “That’s what she wants you to think.”

“Well, flirting with her _definitely _didn’t work,” Lou said with dignity. “She kept yelling at me for talking like you and threatening to make me babysit her admittedly-adorable suburban children.”

“You just didn’t do it right.”

It was Lou’s turn to scoff. “It works on _you_.”

Debbie pointed her finger at Lou. “Of course, it works on me. I’m in love with you.”

“Love has blinded you?”

“Entirely.”

Lou grinned and sprawled somewhat provocatively on the couch, one knee bent against the back cushions, the other leg stretched towards Debbie. She let her robe fall where it would, exposing just enough of her bra and boxers to tease. Debbie’s eyes traced up her leg and got lost somewhere in her cleavage. Lou sipped her wine triumphantly.

“Point taken,” Debbie muttered in a slightly lower voice than usual. “I’m definitely not blind.” Her eyes were almost black in the dim light of the single lamp, and Lou could practically feel herself drowning in them.

Lou smiled and surveyed Debbie over the rim of her own wine glass. She could feel the heady scent tingle in her sinuses. “I’m not blind either, Debs,” she said quietly. “You’re…beautiful.”

Debbie looked sideways at Lou, wavy locks of hair falling in her face as she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “You think so?”

“I do.”

Debbie sighed and sat up straight, stretching her back before settling against the couch cushions with her left hand on Lou’s knee. “I think it’ll take me a while to feel like…_me_ again.”

Lou nodded understandingly, though she couldn’t quite imagine the level of detachment Debbie must have with her own body after six years of having her life run by the harsh sound of a buzzer echoing of the prison cinderblocks. She watched Debbie sip her wine with the skill of a vintner.

“It wasn’t all bad, you know?” she said look at Lou and tracing spirals on Lou’s bare knee.

Lou’s skin burned under the touch, but she kept her eyes and mind focused on Debbie’s words. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me,” Lou said simply, though she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to hear some of the details of Debbie’s sentence. 

Debbie smiled and took another sip of wine. “I don’t think I could have planned the Met Job if I hadn’t gone to prison. To be honest,” She looked at Lou with a slightly abashed expression. “I don’t really remember _how_ I came up with it, just that I did it in solitary after I got stabbed.” Lou shivered a little at the mention of that incident, but she didn’t think Debbie noticed. “I ran it over and over in my mind, and I never once planned for a scenario where I didn’t get out on parole.” Debbie shook her head and sighed. “I knew I would need…_something _when I got out, and now,” She let her breath out in a shaky exhale.

Lou reeled in her legs and moved close to Debbie on the couch, suddenly aware of the heightened emotion in Debbie’s voice. Her own heart beat hard in her chest. “Debs,” She murmured, but she didn’t have any words of comfort to offer. 

Debbie sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said through a watery smile, “the crying.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lou insisted. She transferred her wine to her left hand so she could wrap an arm around Debbie’s shoulders.

Debbie closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Lou’s. “I miss Marcia,” she said after a moment. “It sounds silly to miss any_thing _or any_one_ from inside, but I do miss her. She was more than I deserved. And you—you’re—” 

“Debbie, hey,” Lou murmured, taking Debbie’s wine from her slightly trembling fingers and setting it alongside her own on the coffee table. Then she brought both hands up to frame Debbie’s face, fingers threading into the hair behind each of her ears. “Debbie, I—”

“I don’t deserve you, baby,” Debbie whispered, so quietly that Lou suspected she didn’t quite believe the words herself. But Debbie’s defenses against her deepest insecurities were clearly crumbling from the weight of being free, and Lou knew how _that _felt, knew what it was like to question everything when change seemed to be the only constant.

“Yes, you do,” Lou said patiently. “I think you know that.”

“I know I _love _you.”

“I know that, too,” Lou assured her, tucking Debbie’s head onto her shoulder and wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

“I also know that I tried to forget you when I was with Claude,” Debbie said in a choked voice, “and I’m so…so _sorry_, baby.”

“Debbie, I _left_. You didn’t do anything wro—”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away for so long, that I didn’t keep in touch. I—”

“I _know_,” Debbie repeated.

“I love you.”

“Keep telling me? Please?”

Lou smiled against Debbie’s hair. “Always, Jailbird.”

“The Met Job,” Debbie began as she pulled away from Lou and wiped her eyes. “The Met Job was for you, baby.”

Lou squinted at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re the reason I thought of it. You just…popped into my head,” Debbie explained, “along with the Met, and everything sort of fell into place from there. Solitary – well let’s just say it’s not the worst place to _think_.”

“It was _brilliant_, Debs. Really,” Lou said truthfully. She had been slightly skeptical at first, but Debbie’s plan _had_ been flawless. “I wish you had been there with me, though,” she added. “I missed you every day.”

“I missed you, too.”

Debbie looked thoughtful, as though she were sorting through a thousand thoughts. The familiar expression warmed Lou’s heart. She wondered if Debbie was thinking of another job, or whether she was just considering what she was going to shoplift tomorrow on her first full day of freedom. Either way, it was so characteristic that it brought a lump to Lou’s throat. Oh, she loved her. They sat in comfortable silence, slowly finishing the Pinot Noir. Lou relished every point of contact between them – her hand on Debbie’s knee; Debbie’s fingers reaching up to tuck a strand of platinum hair behind her ear; the brush of their shoulders against one another. Finally, Lou spoke:

“Jailbird?”

Debbie smiled at the nickname. “Yeah?”

“Do you…do you want to take a trip?”

Debbie met Lou’s gaze with a twinkle in her eyes. “Where to?”

Lou shrugged. “California?” The idea had been rolling around in the back of her mind since her dream earlier – longer than that, really, if she thought about it. She had always wanted to drive the Pacific highway, and now she couldn’t imagine going anywhere without Debbie.

“Cross-country road trip? With you? On the bike?” Debbie raised her eyebrows higher with each question.

“Yeah, with me. On the bike,” Lou said. She slipped her hand off the edge of Debbie’s robe onto the warm, bare skin of her inner thigh. Debbie gasped and parted her legs slightly, encouraging the touch. “What do you say?” Lou prompted, stroking her thumb over Debbie’s impossibly soft skin.

“Yeah, I,” Debbie trailed off as though she couldn’t quite find the right words. “That sounds perfect, baby. Perfect.”

Lou smiled at her. “Are you sure?” she asked. She didn’t want Debbie to feel like she had to come along if it wasn’t what she really wanted.

Debbie leaned in and ghosted her lips along Lou’s jaw to the corner of her mouth. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Always.”

“I was just thinking about how I need a project – something to concentrate on, you know?”

Lou tilted her head so her lips brushed Debbie’s. “And?”

“_And_, I realized I want to concentrate on _you_, baby. I want to focus on _us_,” Debbie’s eyelashes fluttered against Lou’s cheek.

“Honey,” Lou felt a burning behind her eyes.

Debbie kissed half-formed words from Lou’s lips, and Lou was grateful. Her head was spinning with questions and warning bells once more. She trusted Debbie more than anything else in the universe, but there was a nagging thought careening through her mind that this softer side of Debbie spoke to how much pain Debbie had suffered; was still suffering? But Lou _trusted _her, and even if Debbie’s words seemed strange, she was telling Lou the truth. That was what _really _mattered, so Lou kissed Debbie back and made a promise to herself that she would learn and relearn the version of Debbie that was in front of her. _For better or for worse, forever, _Lou thought. Because it was still _Debbie_ here in her arms, kissing her, and Debbie’s words to her – about _them_ – were more than Lou had ever dared to hope for. Lou relaxed into the kiss.

Debbie pressed into Lou, and her right hand slid around Lou’s hips to fist the fabric of her robe and tug gently. Lou followed the movement and found herself straddling Debbie’s lap. She ran her hands up Debbie’s sides to her breasts, gently squeezing silk-covered skin. Debbie moaned into her mouth. For several moments, everything was soft and warm, but then Lou noticed that her own lips were trembling against Debbie’s. There was also a dampness around her eyes and tightness in her throat. She broke the kiss with a whimpering gasp and muffled a sob in Debbie’s neck.

“You okay?” Debbie asked cautiously. There was a note of surprised concern in her voice, but Lou couldn’t find her voice yet. Instead, she nodded into Debbie’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around Debbie’s neck. Debbie, who had tensed at the sound of Lou’s sob, relaxed under her. Lou knew she must have realized that the tears didn’t mean Lou wanted any sort of distance from her – quite the opposite, in fact. Debbie’s hands moved hesitantly, tentatively over Lou’s back, comforting with unpracticed fingers.

“I,” Lou gasped into Debbie’s shoulder, “I l-love you, Debbie.”

Debbie hummed softly in concerned agreement. The niggling doubts in Lou’s head seemed to fade under a wave of gratitude that Debbie was _here_, that she was loving Lou with the tap of fingers along her spine and the gentle press of her lips to Lou’s temple.

“I didn't really think you’d want to leave New York,” Lou choked out finally.

“That’s why you’re crying on me?” Debbie asked incredulously.

Lou huffed a rough laugh. “No, honey. I just,” Another wave of tears rolled over Lou before she could find the words.

“Baby, I’m not very good at this,” Debbie said somewhat ruefully, as she held Lou close and patted her gently on the back.

“Good at what?” Lou asked. Her throat felt tight and over-used.

“_This_, you know, comforting? I’m not the nurturing type, Lou.”

“Well, if you’re going to go all soft on _me_, Ocean, you’ll have to get used to it,” Lou said, pulling back to look into Debbie’s eyes. She almost broke down again as she met Debbie’s gaze.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Debbie said. She looked very relieved that Lou had stopped crying. “But I _was_ serious, baby,” Debbie went on, reaching up to unstick some of Lou’s hair from her tear stained cheek. “I want this – I want _us_ – to be…to be real this time.”

“Me too,” Lou said. Her voice broke. “I think it was always real, and we were just too stupid to realize it.”

Debbie smiled the secret smile that Lou knew was reserved only for her. It made Lou’s heart beat high in her throat and her stomach flip with pleasure. 

**

Sometime later, Lou finally shifted off of Debbie’s lap and brought their now empty wine glasses into the kitchen. She was tired in a pleasant, warm sort of way. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this ready for sleep. For years, Lou’s unconscious mind had supplied her with visions of Debbie that only served to make her sad; and – in the first years of Debbie’s sentence – destructive, when she woke up to find herself alone.

“I’m going to sleep in your room, baby,” Debbie said casually through a yawn, leaning against the refrigerator as Lou scrubbed the wine glasses and set them to dry on a cloth on the counter.

Lou smiled. “I was hoping you would.”

“But you gave me my own room anyway?” Debbie tilted her head in a display of curiosity, though Lou had a feeling Debbie already knew the answer to her own question. Lou wanted Debbie to have the opportunity to reclaim as much space as she wanted to be _hers_ after six years in prison.

“You have a lot of clothes,” Lou said with false seriousness. “There wasn’t nearly enough space in my closet.”

Debbie rolled her eyes and yawned again. “I appreciate it, baby,” she said as she handed Lou a dishtowel to dry her hands.

Lou winked and brushed past Debbie to the door of the freezer. She pulled a cold pack from the shelf on the door and handed it to Debbie. “For the bruises, and there’s Ibuprofen in the bathroom upstairs. You better heal up before I take you anywhere on that bike.”

Debbie took the cold pack and sighed. “You’re taking care of me.”

“Problem with that?”

Debbie laced her fingers into Lou’s and tugged gently until Lou was flush against her. “Never, baby.” Her lips brushed Lou’s as she spoke. Lou kissed the corner of Debbie mouth, her jaw, the spot right below her ear where a purple mark was blooming from earlier. Lou couldn’t remember leaving it there, but then again, it had all been a bit of a blur. It still was.

“Didn’t you mention something about needing to sleep for a hundred hours?” Lou asked quietly.

“Mm, yes,” Debbie replied. “I think I did.” Lou could feel Debbie’s breath on her neck as she spoke. It was warm and sweet.

“Well, taking into account your nap earlier, I’d say you have about ninety-six more hours to go. Shall we?” She squeezed Debbie’s hand and took a step towards the stairs.

“God, yes.”

Lou led Debbie upstairs once more and into the bathroom. She pulled a spare toothbrush out of a drawer and handed it to her along with a fresh tube of toothpaste that she remembered to be Debbie’s favorite. Debbie blinked rapidly as she looked at it.

“Your memory is truly astounding,” she noted. 

Lou shrugged. “I’m good with people. My head is full of the most trivial facts about practically everyone I’ve ever met, and yet I still can’t figure out jobs the way you do.”

“That’s a numbers game, baby,” Debbie said in a sing-song voice.

“That’s why it’s your department.” Lou caught Debbie’s eye in the mirror and shot her a brief salute. Debbie grinned back at her around her toothbrush.

Lou’s limbs were heavy with languid exhaustion as she shed her robe and bra and climbed into bed beside Debbie. Despite her tiredness, she felt a thrill of giddy excitement at the thought that this wasn’t a dream, that for the first time in over ten years she would awake in the morning with Debbie beside her. There was a twinkle in Debbie’s eyes that told Lou the sentiment was mutual. Sleep would find them soon, Lou knew, but when Debbie was looking at her like that…

“You okay there, baby?” Debbie asked. She slid one of her legs between Lou’s thighs and draped herself half-over her.

Lou’s mouth was dry, and she was somewhat surprised to be this aroused for the third time today. Then again, this was _Debbie_, and with her, all bets were off. “You’re…” She cleared her throat. “You’re so beautiful, Debs.”

Debbie dipped her head, hiding her face shyly in Lou’s collarbone. Her lips brushed Lou’s skin, and Lou arched her back into her warmth. Debbie stroked her hand up and down Lou’s side. The motion could have been soothing in another context, but right now, the touch sent electric heat through Lou’s entire body. Lou parted her legs instinctively.

“Thought I would be too tired for this,” she muttered.

“Mm, but you’re not,” Debbie observed. Without preamble, she sucked Lou’s right nipple into her mouth and gazed up at her with hooded eyes.

“_Shit_,” Lou moaned as Debbie flicked her tongue around the hardened flesh. She tilted her head back onto the pillows and surrendered to the feelings elicited by Debbie’s hot tongue trailing over her stomach. She was panting by the time Debbie moved up her body once more to capture Lou’s lips in an ever-deepening kiss as her fingers strayed up and down Lou’s inner thigh.

“You want me to fuck you?” Debbie asked against Lou’s mouth. She tugged at the fabric of Lou’s boxers; Lou was sure they were already a lost cause. She groaned and lifted her hips to allow Debbie to pull them down her legs and off.

“Y-yes…_God_, yes…so wet…” She trailed off into incoherent stammering as Debbie’s fingers circled through her arousal, teasing for mere seconds before slipping inside. Lou moaned, and she felt her hips buck into Debbie’s hand of their own accord. Fucking in the garage earlier had been a more-than-welcome encounter, but this, _this_ was much more profound, and it drove home for Lou the fact that Debbie was the only person she had ever allowed inside her. She was the only person Lou had ever wanted like _this_, and that still _meant _something. Lou tried to take deep breaths, willing this to last as Debbie set a quick and steady rhythm.

“You look amazing like this,” Debbie murmured into Lou’s ear. The words shot straight to Lou’s core, and she ground herself harder onto Debbie’s fingers until every thrust was perfect. “You’re my girl,” Debbie whispered. Her tongue flicked over Lou’s pulse point.

“Yours,” Lou agreed breathlessly. She teetered on the edge of oblivion. “I’m gonna come, Debs.”

“Come for me, baby,” Debbie encouraged, smirking against Lou’s jaw. “Let go.”

Lou did, and not for the first time, she knew that “seeing stars” was more than just a metaphor. She heard Debbie’s breaths mingling with her own, felt her fingers slowly slide from inside her. Lou blinked her eyes open to see Debbie staring back at her with her tongue licking over her hand. She leaned forward and up and kissed Debbie through the gaps in her fingers, tasting herself on Debbie’s skin, in Debbie’s mouth. It was far more decadent than the four-thousand-dollar bottle of Pinot Noir. Lou’s eyelids were heavy with sleep as she pulled away from Debbie at last. Debbie sighed and reached out to straighten Lou’s bangs affectionately. 

“I love you,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I love you, too.” Lou yawned and settled herself on her side facing Debbie. Debbie rolled onto her back and reached for the cold pack that she had placed on the bedside table.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Debbie murmured as she laid it across her bruised ribs. She sighed and turned her face towards Lou’s. Her expression of sleepy contentment perfectly mirrored Lou’s feelings.

Lou nestled close to her, draping her arm around Debbie’s hips and burying her face in her shoulder. “I’ll always take care of you, Jailbird,” she whispered, even as her eyes blinked closed. She felt rather than heard Debbie reach over and turn off the light. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of repetition in this chapter from the previous one and the one before that. That's intentional because I feel like Debbie's processing in this situation would be very cyclical and confusing. That's also why I spent three chapters all on the same day. Next week: California!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	9. Oh, but California!

“When we get to San Francisco, we’re staying put for _at least _a week,” Lou declared, flopping onto the king-size bed in their latest “give-us-the-best-room-in-the-place” hotel suite. Debbie mimicked her and flopped down next to her, smiling fondly at the hazy tiredness in Lou’s eyes.

“You could let me drive,” Debbie suggested in a sing-song voice.

“Debs, you haven’t had a valid license in…have you _ever_ had a valid license?”

Debbie rolled onto her back and grinned. “We’re _felons_, baby, what do you think?”

“I think that only _one _of us actually has a criminal record.”

“Mm. Touché.”

They had been on the road for well over a month, charting a slow path across the plains and the Rocky Mountains to Portland, and then down the coast into Northern California. They took their time. Lou loved the Redwoods; Debbie loved stealing from oblivious tourists looking at the Redwoods (almost as much as she loved watching Lou with her head thrown back, gazing upwards at the branches far, far above them). As far as Debbie was concerned, it was blissful.

“Tired, baby?” Debbie asked, smoothing some of Lou’s hair out of her eyes.

“Haven’t ridden this far in a while,” Lou admitted, rubbing one eye with her knuckles. “But I’m getting used to it. I’m glad you’re with me.” She intertwined her fingers with Debbie’s on the bedspread between them.

“How long have you wanted to do this?” Debbie asked. 

Lou frowned contemplatively. “A while, I guess,” she said after a moment. “When you first hinted at a job – way back when you asked for the credit line three years ago – it popped into my head as a pipe dream. But I had just bought the club, and I was only just starting to…” She grimaced. “…be decent to myself again after…”

“…after I got myself thrown in the slammer?” Debbie finished.

“You didn’t ‘get yourself’ thrown anywhere,” Lou admonished, “but yes. It was around three years ago that I thought of it, and every so often I found myself looking at gear and routes and destinations. And then…” Lou sighed and squeezed Debbie’s hand. Debbie looked at her expectantly. “When you didn’t get out in March, I just couldn’t imagine leaving you again so soon, you know? I wanted this trip, but I didn’t want to leave you behind.”

Debbie raised their entwined fingers to her lips and kissed Lou’s knuckles. “Thanks for inviting me, baby.”

“Any excuse to get on that bike, right honey?” Lou said with a smirk.

“Seriously, Lou, it’s like a giant vibrator,” Debbie replied earnestly. “How do you handle it?”

“I keep you around.”

Debbie scoffed, though she felt herself blush. She wasn’t going to deny the fact that some of the best sex she had ever experienced had occurred on this road trip, though there were a lot of factors at play besides Lou’s motorcycle – namely, _Lou_ herself and the fact that Debbie was utterly in love with her _and_ recognizing it for the first time in her life. Debbie had never admitted to being in love with anyone before. Lou was…it, and Debbie could never have predicted how good it felt to _know_.

“So,” Lou interrupted Debbie’s thoughts with a knowing smile, “how much did you get downstairs?”

Debbie fixed a look of innocent incredulity on her face. “What are you talking about, baby?”

“_Debbie_…” Lou cautioned.

Debbie grinned and rolled onto her left side, pressing her body along Lou’s side and rolling her hips once into Lou’s thigh, just because she could. She traced one long finger up and down Lou’s sternum just above the absurdly low-cut neckline of her vest.

“Why are you trying to distract me?” Lou asked slowly. Debbie caught a slight breathlessness in her tone that made her own pulse race. “What did you _do_, Deborah?”

“You mean you didn’t see me?” Debbie teased. “Your eyes really must be going, baby.”

With a sound that could only be described as a growl, Lou shifted to push Debbie onto her back. Debbie anticipated the movement, and by the time Lou was leaning over her with one thigh between her legs, there was a silver watch clutched in Debbie’s hand between their bodies. Lou blinked at the watch in surprise.

Debbie tilted her head slightly and gave Lou a smug smile. “I thought this would suit you,” she said.

“Jesus _Christ_, Debs.” Lou appraised the watch carefully as Debbie held it between them. Debbie took the opportunity to appraise Lou’s cleavage from the improved angle. “Rolex – silver, platinum, and diamonds,” Lou muttered.

“Mm hmm.”

“It’s a recent model – 2014 I think, maybe 2015.”

Debbie pursed her lips as she tried to hold in a fond laugh. Lou trailed a finger around the watch face; Debbie grumbled as her forearm momentarily impeded her view of Lou’s breasts.

“Debbie, this probably costs upwards of twenty-grand.”

“Hm. Fascinating,” Debbie said in a bored tone.

Lou pushed herself into a seated position, straddling Debbie’s hips. She held out her left wrist expectantly. Debbie smiled and ran her fingers gently down Lou’s arm, watching goosebumps rise on her skin. She laid the watch against Lou’s skin, turned her palm over, and fastened the clasp.

“It looks much better on you,” Debbie mused, not taking her fingers from the pulse point on Lou’s wrist.

“Than on…?”

“A man who tried to buy me a drink downstairs. I liberated it.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby, but I _am _surprised you didn’t see me slip it off him. I mean, are you losing your touch?” Debbie moved her hands to Lou’s hips and gave her a look of mock concern. 

Lou scoffed and ran her palms from Debbie’s stomach, up and over her breasts, pausing to tweak her nipples through her clothes. Debbie arched her back into the touch and let a breathy whimper fall from her lips. Lou kept kneading her breasts, and Debbie felt warmth blooming in her abdomen under Lou’s hips.

“Baby?” Debbie prompted, attempting to keep a hold of her control of the conversation. Nevertheless, her voice came out breathier than usual.

Lou bent over her until her lips brushed the sensitive skin just in front of Debbie’s right ear. “I was a little too preoccupied to pay attention to your hands.”

“Preoccupied with what?” Debbie smirked and then gasped as Lou rolled her hips into her.

“Your neck…” Lou placed a kiss just under Debbie’s jaw that made her shiver. “…your hips…” Lou shifted her thumbs to massage circles just inside Debbie’s hip bones. Debbie groaned. “…your _legs_,” Lou finished with a sigh. She ran her right hand up Debbie’s bare thigh to the hem of her sundress, which she had changed into when they first arrived at the hotel a few hours ago.

“_Fuck_,” Debbie whispered as she registered a swell of moisture between her legs.

“Later, honey.” Lou kissed Debbie (all-too briefly) and pushed herself off her into a standing position at the foot of the bed. “Ice cream? I saw a place when we were driving in.”

“I’d rather eat you,” Debbie replied with an overexaggerated sigh, though she felt a smile tug on the corners of her mouth. She sat up slowly and ran her fingers through her tousled hair.

“_Later_, Debs. Come on, I always buy you ice cream on your birthday.”

Debbie blinked and froze on the edge of the bed as she registered Lou’s words. “I…I forgot.”

“I know.” Lou shot her a dazzling smile. “I didn’t.” She offered Debbie her hand. Debbie took it and pulled herself to her feet.

She stared at Lou, trying to think of the right thing to say. She was touched. Lou had always been better about remembering things like birthdays, but Debbie didn’t usually forget her own. Then again, Lou had always reminded her, or Danny. _Danny…_Debbie felt a lump grow in her throat. Lou was looking hard into Debbie’s eyes as though she could see the thoughts passing through her mind.

“Danny?” Lou asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Debbie said with a wince and a nod, averting her eyes from Lou’s. “Yeah, he…always remembered. Even when I was in prison…” She swallowed hard and stopped. The wave of sadness lapped around her ankles, but it was comforting that Lou understood. It was _enough._ Debbie sighed and looked up at Lou with a smile. “So, ice cream?” she asked, squeezing her hand.

“Ice cream.”

**

There were many benefits to spending a week in San Francisco, and Debbie was prepared to take advantage of all of them. The end of July was the height of the tourist season, but that was perfect for her; Oceans were always more comfortable in crowds. Even in an unfamiliar city, Debbie was quick to lose herself in the press of people, swiping wallets and watches as she walked hill after hill in impractical shoes. She and Lou had different priorities in the city. Lou was interested in the architecture and the urban planning and the beaches just to the north over the Golden Gate Bridge. In contrast, Debbie was interested in the abundance of department stores that hadn’t yet had a cause to tighten their security against Oceans.

Debbie liked the beach, too, though. More importantly, she liked knowing where to find Lou at the end of the day, liked watching her from a distance when she returned from her own less-legal excursions. It wasn’t as though Lou looked _old_ normally, but she looked decades younger in the water. Today, as Debbie stepped out of her Uber and made her way towards the walkway down to the shore, she saw Lou throw a stone as far as she could over the rolling waves. It splashed into the foamy surf, and the spray sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. Debbie was close enough to see Lou smile as the rock plunged into the water. 

“Hey,” Debbie called out, waving to Lou as she slipped out of her stilettos and walked towards her across the pebbly shore.

Lou looked over her shoulder. Her hair was damp and tousled enough to make Debbie a little weak at the knees. Most people seemed to think that swimming here was too cold or too dangerous. Lou wasn’t _most_ people, and Debbie could see a glowing joy in her eyes as she noticed Debbie walking towards her.

“Good day, baby?” Debbie asked as she approached Lou and leaned up to kiss her cheek. She tasted salty, and Debbie lingered longer than was strictly necessary because the flavor made her lips tingle pleasantly.

“Yeah…you?”

“Yeah. Here, I got you something.” She passed Lou a perfume box wrapped in a silk scarf from one of the bags in her hand.

“Oh…uh…” Lou fiddled with the anti-theft tag on the scarf. “Can I return something you stole?” she asked teasingly. 

Debbie rolled her eyes and placed the bag on the ground near their feet, not far from where Lou’s towel was spread on the rocks. “Stop, you love it.”

“I love _you_.” Lou shook out the scarf and passed it through her hands. The effect of the bold colors was striking against her ivory skin and her plum swimsuit.

Debbie felt her mouth go dry at the sight. She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. Lou was now examining the bottle of perfume.

“This is new,” she noted.

“It’s nice. You’ll like it. Very androgynous.” Debbie leaned in and kissed Lou’s pulse point. “And _I _like it, baby. Can’t wait to smell it on you.” She felt Lou shiver at her words and saw her fingers tremble slightly as she dropped the scarf and perfume back into the bag by their feet.

Debbie made to step away, but Lou wrapped her arms around her waist and tugged her close. Debbie gasped in surprise, and her thoughts blurred as Lou brushed her hair to one side and licked her way up Debbie’s neck. “Have a drink with me?” Lou breathed in Debbie’s ear.

“Yes!”

“I’ve missed you.”

Debbie hummed happily. “Baby, you saw me this morning.” She dropped her voice to a low whisper, though there wasn’t anyone nearby who could hear them over the crashing waves. “You _fucked_ me this morning.”

“I still missed you today,” Lou murmured. “It feels different now, when I know you’re nearby. It feels…nice. But I still missed you.”

Debbie felt her heart clench. “I love you, baby,” she replied, and then she kissed Lou because she couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t sarcastic.

They made their way back up the beach to Lou’s bike a short time later, and Debbie leaned against it while Lou went into the public restroom to change out of her swimsuit. She watched the waves through her sunglasses, thinking about how this was the epitome of freedom for so many people – for Lou, certainly – but for her…well, she felt more comfortable in places where marks were a dime a dozen. She couldn’t con the trees or the mountains or the sand. Perhaps that’s why she found their beauty a little overwhelming. Perhaps that’s why she found _Lou’s _beauty a little overwhelming, too.

“Ready?”

Debbie looked up and smiled at Lou, who was now dressed in black leather pants, a green vest, and her usual array of necklaces. “Ready,” Debbie replied. She took a deep breath as she climbed onto the bike behind Lou, noticing that she had already applied the new perfume Debbie had stolen for her. 

**

As usual, at Debbie’s insistence, their hotel was the most expensive one they could find, and they had reserved the most expensive suite. Lou had insisted on actually paying for it, because they _could _afford it, after all. What was the _point_, she had asked Debbie, of stealing a combined total of almost eighty-million dollars and not spending it? The views from their penthouse rooms were spectacular, and Debbie found that she was more than satisfied with conning the hotel out of their most expensive selection of wines even if the suite itself was an honest purchase. The hotel restaurant boasted an eclectic menu that both of them enjoyed, and the bar had proven to be more than satisfying for petty theft. Debbie liked the way Lou’s eyes followed her as she scoped out a mark for the evening or slipped a fat wallet off of some business man from out-of-state. The thrill of flirting with men, all the while knowing that Lou would be the one undressing her later, hadn’t diluted over time. And Debbie was smoother and more calculating than she had ever been. She knew it, and she knew that Lou saw it, too, by the way her blue eyes smoldered. And _that_ made Debbie’s blood run hot in her veins.

Tonight was different, though. This was – for lack of a better word – a _date_. There had been a “no funny business” tone in Lou’s voice when she asked Debbie to have a drink with her that told Debbie tonight was for _them_. It was its own kind of thrill. Debbie let her palms slide under Lou’s leather jacket as they reached the southern end of the Golden Gate Bridge. She felt Lou’s muscles tremble at the touch, and Debbie knew better than to push it any further on the winding streets of San Francisco. She stilled her hands against Lou’s stomach and matched the rhythm of her breaths until the bike was safely parked in the hotel’s garage.

“How about that drink then?” Debbie said as she shook her hair out of the confines of the helmet.

“My treat, honey,” Lou replied, tucking both helmets into the bikes side compartments and locking them.

“Oh, we’re _paying _for them?” Debbie teased.

Lou rolled her eyes. “I mean, _you’re_ not. That’s the point. Come on.” She held out an arm towards Debbie, and Debbie interlocked their elbows, painting a vapid smile across her face as she did so.

“I see romance isn’t dead,” she quipped.

Lou rolled her eyes and groaned in feigned exasperation.

Debbie allowed her smile to fall into something more genuine and tugged on her arm. “Buy me a drink then, baby,” she said.

The bar was on the second floor of the hotel with a rooftop patio located above the lobby, which boasted a view of the Victorian townhouses and mansions nearby, as well as a distant view of the bay. Debbie could smell salt on the breeze as their waiter sat them at a table in the corner under an umbrella. The sun was dipping towards the horizon in the distance, and the light was golden. Lou looked beautiful. Her green vest contrasted with the red bricks and brown stones around them, and her hair was almost blindingly bright in the sunlight. Debbie felt slightly underdressed and plain in her black sundress and simple sandal stilettos.

“We should have stopped to change,” Debbie commented as she opened her menu. 

Lou rolled her eyes over the top of hers. “Please,” she said, “the only reason I dress like this is to keep up with you.”

Debbie felt herself smile, though she didn’t look up at Lou. 

“Besides,” Lou went on, “I bought you something to change into later.”

Having made her decision, Debbie closed her menu and looked up at Lou. “I’m intrigued,” she said.

Lou pulled a smaller shopping bag out of the beach tote by her side and slid it across the table to Debbie. Debbie maintained eye contact as she took it, not looking inside. “Is this more of a gift for me or a gift for you?” she asked suggestively.

“Both of us, honey,” Lou replied casually as she returned to perusing her menu. She twirled a piece of platinum blonde hair around her finger. “But don’t worry, I bought some for myself, too.”

Debbie pricked up her ears at that, and looked in the bag. Her hands slid over satin and lace, and she could already imagine the fabric against her skin. Her pulse raced. But she was much more interested in what Lou had chosen for herself. Lingerie wasn’t often her style. 

“It’s not in there,” Lou told her, smirking down at her menu. “I’m already wearing it.” She glanced up and met Debbie’s gaze over the table.

“You tease,” Debbie said, sitting back in her chair.

“Maybe,” Lou shrugged. She closed her own menu and clasped her hands behind her head, leaning back in her seat and eying Debbie across the table. Debbie stared back at her, feeling exposed and _wanted_, which was only ever comfortable with Lou. Neither of them spoke; Debbie let the tension stretch between them. The moment was broken barely a minute later by their waiter returning for their drink orders.

“Dry martini with an olive.” Debbie rattled off Danny’s drink of choice just as she had at every other bar between New York and San Francisco.

Lou looked across at her with a softness in her eyes. “Grapefruit soda,” she said to the waiter, without looking at him.

Debbie smiled at Lou a little shyly.

“You used to drink scotch,” Lou said as the waiter walked away, “but you haven’t ordered one this whole trip. What’s that about?”

Debbie grimaced and sighed. “Scotch was Claude’s drink, too,” she said simply. “You used to…well, _drink_.” She, too, had noticed a difference in Lou’s drink orders from what she remembered. It had always been vodka and bourbon in the past; now it was fancy sodas, Diet Coke, and the occasional beer.

“I _do _drink,” Lou said, looking at her fingers entwined on the table. 

Debbie knew she was stalling and opened her mouth.

“Just beer and wine, though,” Lou said, forestalling her as she looked up at Debbie. “And even that…” She shrugged. “…in moderation.”

Debbie narrowed her eyes. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t want to pry.

Lou sighed. “Tammy told you that I…didn’t take care of myself after you got sent to prison. I went back to New York. I stayed in our old apartment. I…survived.”

“Was there ever a question—?”

“Yes,” Lou answered sharply.

Debbie suddenly felt cold despite the heat of the late afternoon sun. She swallowed hard, unsure whether she wanted to hear Lou’s story, but certain that she needed to listen all the same.

“I drank a lot,” Lou said quietly, “I wasn’t sober very often, but I _was _smart enough to put both the car and my bike in storage. I stole prescriptions from marks and from…from women…” She cleared her throat and looked at Debbie. “…women I fucked. I sold most of the stuff, but not all of it.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t…wasn’t _good_, Debs.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie said quietly.

Lou winced. “It wasn’t your fault. I should’ve gone to visit you, though, sooner than I did. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me, that maybe you didn’t love me back. It was stupid, but…” Lou shrugged. “I was a mess.”

The waiter brought their drinks. Debbie swirled the olive in her martini, wishing that she could tell Lou that if she _had _come to visit her, everything would’ve been all right. Debbie knew better than that, though, knew she would have seemed cold and distant to Lou in the first year or so of her sentence. She hadn’t figured anything out at that point, hadn’t forgiven herself for what had happened. Mentally shaking herself, Debbie pulled herself out of the past and watched as Lou took a long sip from her straw. “So…” Debbie said after a moment.

“_So_,” Lou went on, “I drank, I took pills, and I fucked women who didn’t look like you.” Her tone was harsh and cold, but her eyes burned with nervous heat. Her fingers twitched.

Debbie reached across the table and laid her hand palm-up in front of Lou. Lou smiled gratefully and interlaced their fingers, gripping so tightly that Debbie almost winced.

“And then Tammy found me, and she helped me pull myself together and get the club. I owe her my life, Debbie,” Lou said softly. Her eyes were less intense now but still certain.

“I should thank her, then,” Debbie said with a smile, rubbing her thumb soothingly over Lou’s knuckles. They were silent for a long time.

“So, that’s it,” Lou said finally. “That’s me, figuring out myself without you. It ended up okay in the end, thanks to Tammy and my own damn survival instinct.” She shot Debbie a challenging and slightly anxious expression across the table. “What about you, Debs?”

Debbie smiled humorlessly. “Me,” she echoed, thoughtfully. She took a deep breath. “I joined up with Danny and his crew about a year after you left.”

Lou made to speak, but Debbie held up her free hand to stop her. 

“Look, I know you’ll know some of this already, but I just have to say it, okay?”

Lou nodded and squeezed Debbie’s fingers understandingly. “Okay.”

“Thanks. Anyway, it didn’t work out with Danny. I was too smart for him.”

Lou snorted, and Debbie grinned sheepishly.

“I met Claude a year later, through Danny,” she went on. The mood shifted, and Lou’s eyes hardened like cooling glass. “It was fine in the beginning,” Debbie said with a shrug. “Never _more_ than fine, but the money was good, and he wasn’t…terrible. At least…” She paused and let her eyes drift towards the horizon, thinking herself back. “At least, I didn’t notice the bad stuff at first. I was fairly preoccupied.”

Lou shot her a questioning look.

Debbie took a large gulp of her drink and then continued, “I was desperately trying to get over you,” she said simply. “Claude was decent to me as long as he didn’t talk too much. The jobs were lucrative and the sex was…better than I anticipated. It was easy. But then…” Debbie took a deep breath and let it out in a long exhale. “Then I started noticing the way he fixated on the fact that I’d been with…with women…” She found it difficult to meet Lou’s eyes. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, scared beyond measure at what Lou might think of her by the end of her story. “He…” Debbie cleared her throat. “He called me a slut, called me a dyke…” She felt Lou’s fingers twitch in her hand. “And I,” she went on doggedly, unable to stop. “I stayed with him. I told myself it was only a job. I told myself that maybe I could still use him to forget about you. It had been three years by then, and I hadn’t heard from you. And I think some part of me believed the terrible things he said, so…” Debbie shrugged. “I stayed, and then…” She let her eyes travel back to Lou’s, and instead of finding discomfort or disgust, Debbie saw only understanding and love. It steeled her nerves, and she swallowed hard once more. “…then I couldn’t…couldn’t _be _with him anymore without thinking of you. Every time we fucked, it was _you _in my head. And that’s when it all _really_ went downhill. I got reckless. I asked him to give me a more active role in the jobs. I needed…needed a new excuse to keep my mind off you.” There was a lump in her throat now, and she could see tears swimming in Lou’s eyes across the table, but Debbie tightened her jaw and told herself she wouldn’t cry, not today. “I think it was what he was waiting for,” she said softly, dangerously. “A few months later, he asked me to pose as the seller of the painting instead of the buyer. I didn’t know it, but he had needed to cooperate with some Feds earlier that year because of a job that almost went wrong. I thought he had shaken them off; he made it _look _like he had shaken them off. God, Lou, I…I was _impressed _with him for that.” She shook her head in disgust at the memory. “Anyway, I was the bargaining chip, and…well, it all happened very quickly. I was held at the precinct jail for four and a half months. The trial was quick, once it finally happened, and then…well, you know the rest. In prison, I pulled myself together. I figured out that I was allowed to _want_ you, that it felt _good _to want you, and in the end…”

“…in the end, we’re here,” Lou said.

“Yeah, baby, we are.” Debbie smiled at her. She sipped her martini and blinked rapidly. A single tear managed to escape from the corner of her eye, and she raised her hand impatiently to brush it away, but Lou beat her too it, leaning across the table to swipe her thumb across Debbie’s cheek.

“I’m sorry it…I’m sorry _he_ happened to you, Debs,” Lou said.

Debbie shrugged and smirked. “It’s okay. He got what he deserved.”

“Yeah, he did.”

Debbie finished her drink and placed her empty glass on the table. “So, did you invite me for a drink just to give me lingerie and talk about our feelings? ‘Cause that sounds suspiciously like a date, baby,” Debbie said, tilting her head as she surveyed Lou.

“And if it is?” Lou teased back.

Debbie felt herself blush. “Don’t you think we’re past the _dating _stage?” Debbie asked.

Lou rolled her eyes. “_Anyway_,” she said, “yes, I did have an ulterior motive. Here…” She passed Debbie a rolled-up piece of paper from her bag. “Take a look at this.”

Debbie unrolled the paper and found a blueprint of a what was clearly… “A rollercoaster? Really?”

Lou shrugged. “It was never used. The designer died before he could sell it. Now, we don’t have a rollercoaster, but we do have a blueprint, so…” Lou raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“I like the way you think, Miller,” Debbie muttered, already considering whether or not she had ever researched the cost of the average rollercoaster.

“You like the way I think because _I _know the way _you_ think,” Lou said. She sucked the last of her soda through her straw and gave Debbie a look that dared her to contradict the statement.

Debbie didn’t. It was a perceptive observation. “Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly in agreement. “I think that’s true.”

Lou winked. Debbie felt a thrill run through her. Lou _did _know her – better than anyone ever had, even Danny. No one else besides the two of them would see a decades-old rollercoaster blueprint and immediately begin thinking about how to turn it into cold, hard cash. Her whole body tingled at the small reminder of how much Lou loved her, and suddenly the desire to be alone with her was almost overwhelming. 

“How about I go upstairs and get changed, baby,” Debbie suggested quietly. She stroked the back of Lou’s hand. “Join me in fifteen minutes or so?” She stood up and picked up the bag of lingerie. 

“Can’t wait, honey,” Lou said, tilting her head up for a brief kiss. Debbie obliged and found it difficult to pull away. Lou grinned against her mouth. “Eager already?” she asked in a low voice that vibrated against Debbie’s skin. 

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be out of town this weekend and I have class tomorrow after work, so I'm posting two days early! Next week's chapter will probably be posted early as well because of Thanksgiving, and I'm traveling again. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!


	10. Unfettered and Alive

Debbie’s lips parted slightly as she pulled out the new lingerie and laid it on the bed. This was new for them, at least in practice. Not that she didn’t own some nice pieces (she did), but Lou had never bought her a set before. They had talked about it in a theoretical way, but money had been tight, and while Debbie had very few scruples about stealing gifts for Lou, Lou had always insisted on paying real money for Debbie. The lingerie Lou had chosen was deep red lace with a wide-sleeved, black satin robe that Debbie knew would barely brush the tops of her thighs.

“Jesus, Lou,” Debbie muttered as she ran a fingertip over the lace laid out before her. It was a single-piece with an unlined bodice and a plunging neckline. There was satin edging around the waist and below that, simple mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. The back was almost completely open – just a few narrow lines of satin that would highlight her shoulders and hips. Debbie heard her own breath hitch. Lou would be able to see her nipples through the lace and taste her through the mesh; the idea made Debbie slightly lightheaded.

She pulled off her sundress and underwear and tossed them in a corner before stepping into the lingerie and pulling it over her body. The fabric felt pleasantly rough against her skin, and goosebumps rose along her arms. Using the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, Debbie adjusted the straps and smoothed the lace over her ribs, admiring the high cut of the mesh that wrapped around the very top of her hips. Her fingers traced the neckline of the lace and dipped beneath to brush against her own nipple indulgently. Satisfied with how the fabric sat against her skin, Debbie pulled on the black satin robe and tied it loosely around her waist. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, letting it fall in waves over the shoulders.

Debbie sat down in one of the chairs by the window and looked out over the tops of the trees and houses towards the bay in the distance. If the open road and the beach were reflections of Lou’s freedom, then this was Debbie’s: watching the world unfold from some high perch, invisible – except to Lou, of course. Because Lou could always find her, see her, _reach _her even when Debbie constructed walls of steel around her heart. Debbie caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass of the window. Her face looked more relaxed than she had ever seen it, and Debbie smiled softly at herself. Is that what Lou saw? Debbie hoped it was. Minutes later, she heard Lou’s keycard in the door. Debbie leaned back in the armchair and swiveled her head around the side.

“I brought drinks,” Lou said from the door, holding up two beer bottles by their necks in one hand.

“Thanks, baby.” Debbie pushed herself out of the chair and went to meet her. Lou’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of Debbie in the black satin robe. Debbie slid close to her as she reached for her beer. She sipped it innocently and batted her eyelashes at Lou.

Lou cleared her throat. “It fits, then?” she asked. Debbie heard a rough quality to her voice behind her casual tone.

“Mm, like a glove,” Debbie replied, “but you don’t get to see more until I see what you bought for yourself.” She popped the top button of Lou’s vest open with deft fingers.

“Go on, then,” Lou murmured, leaning close to Debbie’s ear. Her breath hit a particularly sensitive spot on Debbie’s neck, and Debbie couldn’t contain a breathy whine. She felt herself blush, and she took another sip of beer as her fingers got to work on Lou’s buttons. Lou trailed the fingers of her right hand up Debbie’s upper arm and then moved them to her own throat to loosen the knot in the new scarf from Debbie, which she had tied like a tie around her neck. The scarf fluttered to the ground just as Debbie popped open her final button.

“Oh,” Debbie murmured as her eyes rested on Lou’s exposed chest. She wore a black leather bralette that looked to be a size or so too small for her breasts, though Debbie could tell the design was intentional. Two gold buttons held the front of the bralette in place, and there were three buttons above that, which were already open, as if the garment was too tight to be fastened. In lieu of straps, a gold chain snaked up over each of Lou’s strong shoulders, matching the tangle of necklaces at her throat, which she was now carefully removing.

“I thought you’d like it,” Lou said casually, fingering one of the gold buttons against her sternum. 

“_Jesus_, Lou, I _love _it.” Debbie reached up and ran her finger up the gold chain and over Lou’s shoulder. Lou’s breath hitched, and Debbie kept moving, slipping Lou’s vest off completely as she went. Her hand didn’t stop when it met the strip of leather that formed the back of the bralette, instead she let it fall to Lou’s hips and ran her fingers around the waistline of her leather pants. Debbie hooked a finger into the belt loop closest to Lou’s hip bone and tugged her closer, sliding Lou’s thigh between her own legs.

Lou smiled smugly and sipped her beer before placing the bottle on the TV table nearby. She brought both hands to Debbie neck, stroking gently with the backs of her fingers and sending shivers down Debbie’s spine. Debbie’s eyes found Lou’s, and she watched them dart down to Debbie’s lips and back up again. Debbie reached over and placed her beer next to Lou’s. She cleared her throat very quietly and rolled her hips against Lou’s thigh. Lou smiled at the hint and leaned forward to kiss Debbie, teasing her lips with swipes of her tongue and gentle nips. Debbie leaned her chest into her and rolled her hips again even as Lou moved her thigh upwards to press against Debbie’s arousal. Debbie gasped into Lou’s mouth. With an enormous amount of self-discipline, Debbie willed her hips to still and tugged once more at Lou’s belt loops.

“Off?” she asked against Lou’s lips. Lou nodded, and Debbie moved her hand to the fastening of her pants. She undid it, and her fingers brushed a series of buttons that matched those on Lou’s bra. Debbie’s looked down as she pushed Lou’s pants down over her hips, and saw that she was wearing boy-short-cut leather boxers with gold buttons leading down between her legs. Debbie sighed in anticipation, and her fingers trembled. Lou hummed a laugh and took over the task of pushing her pants to the floor, stepping out of her shoes as she did so. Before Debbie could fully appreciate the full effect of Lou’s lingerie, Lou’s mouth was on hers once more, and her hands were sliding down to the sash of Debbie’s robe.

“Let me see you,” Lou murmured against Debbie’s cheek.

Debbie felt a thrill of heady nervousness, and her entire body quivered at Lou’s words. She _wanted_ Lou to see her, but it was still unnerving to accept this surprisingly vulnerable side of herself, something that only Lou had ever managed to awaken. She took a deep breath and brought her hands to the knot at her waist. She undid it and slid her palms over the backs of Lou’s hands, guiding them under the satin robe and onto her lace-covered waist. She could feel the heat of Lou’s fingertips through the thin fabric. Her skin tingled, and she buried her face in Lou’s neck at the onslaught of sensation.

“You’re shaking, honey,” Lou said, a note of surprise in her voice. “Everything okay?”

Debbie leaned back once more to see Lou’s face, and the minute their eyes connected, Debbie felt steadier. “More than okay, baby, you’re just…” She struggled to find the right words. “I love you.”

Lou smiled softly. “I love you so much, Debs,” she said. There was a hint of a deep meaning in her tone that piqued Debbie’s curiosity, but now was not the time for questions. Debbie pushed the robe from her shoulders and watched Lou’s pupils dilate as her eyes raked over her.

“You chose well, baby,” Debbie complimented her, reaching out to stroke Lou’s cheek.

“I really fucking did, didn’t I?” Lou said through a breathy sigh. Her eyes traced the plunging neckline of Debbie’s lingerie and then lingered on the mesh that made a weak attempt at covering her lower torso. Lou licked her lips.

Debbie grinned. “Come on,” she said, tugging Lou’s hand. She turned and walked towards the bed in the center of the room. She heard Lou groan as she took in the scanty ribbon-like strips of satin that made up the back of Debbie’s outfit, and Debbie smiled smugly to herself. At the edge of the bed, Debbie stopped and turned towards Lou once more. She opened her mouth to ask what Lou wanted, but Lou beat her to it.

“I want you on your back,” Lou said softly. Her voice had dropped at least an octave; Debbie could almost feel it. The building tension between them pulled Debbie’s eyes to Lou’s face as she positioned herself in the center of the bed with her head and shoulders propped up on pillows, legs bent and pressed together with her knees tilted towards the mattress. She threaded her fingers through her own hair as she watched Lou crawl towards her up the bed. Debbie could hear her own quickening breaths through her parted lips, and she was quite sure that if Lou kept looking at her like that, she would probably come apart before she even touched her. She opened her legs as Lou reached her and twisted her fingers into the waistband of Lou’s leather boy shorts, tugging Lou’s hips to her own.

Then Lou kissed her, and Debbie lost track of things for a while. Lou’s mouth was everywhere: licking down her neck, mouthing at her nipple through the lace bodice of the lingerie. Her hands danced tantalizing patterns around her hips and along the undersides of her thighs. Debbie didn’t try to contain the sounds that rose in her throat. This was _Lou_, and she could give her everything – any sight, any sound, any feeling she wanted. Lou’s mouth sent flames licking along her sides and down, down to glowing embers between her legs. And she had thought that Lou would be able to taste her through the lingerie’s mesh thong, but it was gratifying to know for _sure_, to feel the friction of the fabric rubbing over her with the movement of Lou’s tongue. She hooked her hands behind her knees and pulled, heart thumping as though it would spring from her chest at the blend of pleasure and vulnerability. Lou’s hands replaced her own, massaging Debbie’s thighs, pressing and grasping at sensitive skin. She could see Lou’s hips rolling into the bed, feel Lou’s hands trembling in time with the eager lapping of her tongue, and it was all for her. Debbie’s back arched off the bed, one hand tangled in Lou’s hair, the other clutching her own breast. She floated weightless for a moment as everything crested then slowed. She closed her eyes.

“I love you.” Lou’s lips brushed Debbie’s cheek, and Debbie blinked her eyes open.

She gave a shaky sigh and nuzzled her face into Lou’s neck. “Baby…” she muttered, voice cracking slightly. Her body was still humming, swirling. 

Lou chuckled softly. “You want more?”

“Want _you_.”

“Can you even move your arms yet?”

“Give me a second. _Fuck_, you’re cocky, you know that?”

“I could be a lot cockier, but it’s surprisingly uncomfortable to ride the bike while packing,” Lou said casually.

“You would know.” Debbie wasn’t going to deny that the idea of Lou packing on the motorcycle, on the motorcycle _with _her…well, it didn’t help her regain control of her hands, that was for sure. Lou nestled her face on Debbie’s shoulder and blinked up at her, sapphire-blue eyes full of love and something that Debbie could only describe as reverence. It made her blush and squirm.

“Oh, you _do _want more,” Lou said through a grin.

Debbie smirked and ran her right hand down Lou’s side. “Mm hmm, but look, I can move my arms again, so I guess I’ll have to wait.” She pushed Lou’s shoulder towards the mattress and pulled herself on top of her, straddling one of her thighs and grinding down. Lou groaned and bent her knee, and Debbie pressed her own knee against Lou’s arousal. “Or maybe I _don't _have to wait, baby,” Debbie whispered, bending forward to ghost the words against Lou’s jaw.

She slid her right hand down Lou’s chest, pausing to slip under the black leather bralette and expose each of her breasts in turn. Her mouth followed her fingers, licking flat and warm over Lou’s nipples and sucking marks into the sides of Lou’s breasts. Her lips lingered on Lou’s chest as her fingers trailed lower, down to the buttons of Lou’s boy shorts. Meanwhile, she maintained a steady rhythm of her hips against Lou’s thigh, spreading slick wetness on Lou’s skin and relishing the friction of the mesh thong moving against her over-sensitive nerves. It wasn’t quite _enough_, not yet, but Lou’s eyes were fixed on her rolling hips, and that was more than enough encouragement for Debbie to continue. Lou’s buttons popped open easily, and Debbie slid her whole hand into Lou’s shorts to cup her, gasping at the slippery heat of Lou’s arousal coating the inside of the leather.

“_Fuck_,” Debbie hissed, momentarily dipping her chin to her chest to look at her hand disappearing into Lou’s lingerie. 

“All for you, Debs,” Lou murmured breathlessly, rubbing herself against Debbie’s palm as best she could with Debbie’s weight on her thigh. Debbie could feel Lou’s muscles rippling and straining beneath her, and it sent a thrill of electricity through her body.

“You’re amazing,” Debbie whispered, pressing forward yet again to brush her lips against Lou’s even as she curled two fingers into her and rocked forward. Lou gave a cry that was muffled in Debbie’s skin. Lou’s hands moved aimlessly, grasping at air. One hand found her own left hip crease, and Debbie saw her fingers digging in desperately. Debbie groped for her other hand and brought it to her lips. She sucked two of Lou’s fingers into her mouth, running her tongue around them and hollowing her cheeks. Lou watched her with a glazed look in her eyes, breath coming in gasps in time with the thrusts of Debbie’s fingers inside her.

Debbie smiled as she released Lou’s fingers and guided them between her own legs against the skin of Lou’s thigh. She released them only to pull the fabric of her lingerie to one side. “Want you inside me, baby,” Debbie said.

“Shit,” Lou muttered as her fingers slipped clumsily in response to one of Debbie’s deeper thrusts. “I don’t know if I can, Debs, I…_fuck_…you feel so good.” Her eyelids fluttered.

“I’ll help you,” Debbie assured her.

Lou nodded mutely and kept her fingers steady enough for Debbie to raise her hips and sink onto them. Debbie bit her lip and concentrated on the sensation, feeling sparks run up her ribcage.

“More, baby,” she muttered. Lou raised an eyebrow cheekily, but obliged with a third finger sliding against her other two. Debbie gasped at the pressure and the stretch.

“God, you’re incredible,” Lou whispered, voice heavy with arousal.

Debbie rocked herself on Lou’s palm and felt a coil of arousal tighten once more in her core. She gazed into Lou’s eyes as she resumed the steady thrusting of her fingers. Their breaths came in matching whimpers as Debbie pressed onto and into Lou, and Lou watched her with hooded eyes. Lou’s free hand grasped at air once more, and Debbie reached for her fingers.

“Debs…”

“Lou…”

Their hands met and wove together against Lou’s stomach. Lou’s hips strained in an erratic rhythm towards Debbie’s palm, and Debbie felt Lou’s thigh quiver between her legs and press upwards. She moaned as the movement drove Lou’s fingers deeper inside her, just where she needed them. And then Lou’s heat tightened around her, and Lou’s fingers curled perfectly inside Debbie. Lou’s hand anchored Debbie to the Earth as each of them trembled, and Lou mouthed words that were lost in an incoherent cry. Debbie watched her, even as her own release broke in waves of pleasure through her body, even as she pulsed over Lou’s hand. At last, she collapsed against Lou’s chest, not bothering to disentangle her hand from Lou’s between them.

Slowly, wanting to extend every fraction of a second, Debbie stroked her fingers out of Lou and shifted so Lou could do the same. She pressed her forehead to Lou’s and matched the rhythm of her breaths, unable to speak for many long minutes. Her lips brushed Lou’s every so often, gently at first and then with more insistent pressure. She could still taste herself in Lou’s mouth. 

“I love you,” Debbie breathed as she pulled away. She settled herself more comfortably over Lou’s body, sliding her hands to Lou’s shoulders and then down her arms.

Lou sighed shakily. “I’m lucky,” she muttered.

“I am, too,” Debbie replied, smiling softly against Lou’s skin. Lou wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly and rocking her gently.

“Are you awake?” Lou asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, baby, I’m awake,” Debbie replied with sleepy smirk.

“There was a woman downstairs,” Lou said quietly, bringing one hand up to stroke Debbie’s hair.

“Are you suggesting a threesome? Because I’m pretty fucked out right n—”

“_Debbie—_”

“Sorry.”

“There was a woman downstairs being bothered by some…men. I helped her out.”

“Of course, you did.” Lou had a knack from spotting damsels in distress. Debbie teased her about it, but in reality, it was one of the things she loved about her. It _mattered_.

“I pretended I was with her, took her down to the lobby, ordered an Uber. Simple, really.”

“She seemed okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. A little shaken up – she was _really _young, Debs, maybe twenty-five.”

Debbie swallowed a knot of nausea in her throat and gripped Lou tighter. The world wasn’t a very nice place most of the time, after all. 

“She asked me to go with her,” Lou went on softly, still stroking Debbie’s hair. “She took my hand, flirted a bit – you know how it goes.”

Debbie grinned. She _did _know. Lou had an effect on people that was fairly astounding at times – “moths to a flame” was an understatement.

“I…didn’t,” Lou said.

“Obviously.”

“I didn’t _want _to.”

“Mm, yes, well, you had me waiting up here wearing _this_, so…” Debbie smirked and ran her hand down her own side over the dark-red lace.

Lou shook her head. “I’m trying to be _serious_, honey,” she said. She rolled them over and nestled her hips between Debbie’s.

Debbie noticed the pensiveness in her tone and the sharp honesty in her gaze for the first time. “Okay, baby,” she said soothingly, stroking Lou’s cheek. “Okay. What…what’s up?”

“It used to feel like a game,” Lou said, looking into Debbie’s eyes with a tenderness that was difficult to comprehend. “Finding girls in bars, taking them home sometimes – by myself, with you…either way…” Lou shrugged.

“And now?” Debbie asked.

“Now, it’s different. Now, I just…I just want _you_. All the time. I really, _really _love you, Debs.” Lou sounded a little frantic. 

“I know, baby, I know,” Debbie assured her, continuing stroking Lou’s cheek. “And I know it’s not about me wearing lingerie, okay?” she added.

Lou huffed a laugh and ducked her chin to her chest. Her hair tickled Debbie’s neck. “I _didn’t _know, Debs,” she said softly after a moment. “I _wanted_ to know that I felt this way about you, but I wasn’t…wasn’t _sure_, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Debbie said. “I do.”

After everything, Debbie reasoned that it shouldn’t be a revelation, but she knew that it was. They had both spent so much time denying that what they felt was real, so much time imagining themselves dancing through life and never settling to anything, that it was still difficult to accept this paradigm shift. _Loving _each other was simple, in a way, because it was _obvious_; believing in it was hard. It would take more than a few short months to chip away at the layers of persona and self-doubt that had been their reality for decades.

“I want you, Lou,” Debbie said after a moment, tilting Lou’s chin up until their eyes met once more. “Only you, baby…today, tomorrow…forever, I think. Whatever plans I make, you’ll be part of them, okay? Every step of the way. I didn’t get to run my dream job, baby, not the way I wanted to. But you know what? I don’t care. It still worked, and in the end…” Debbie took a deep breath. “…in the end what matters is that we did it together, and we’re doing _this _together. We’re unstoppable, baby.”

“Why is it that I can never tell if you’re talking about fucking or about stealing shit?” Lou asked, eyes narrowing.

“Because most of the time, it’s both,” Debbie admitted, “but this time it’s more than that, too. I want _everything _with you, baby. Life, home…whatever else fits. I _want_ it, and for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I have to steal anything to get it.”

“Apart from my heart, honey,” Lou teased.

“Jesus, _baby_, I was being serious,” Debbie said in a huff. She rolled both of them over and shifted to straddle Lou’s hips before gently flicking her nose. 

“You really love me?” Lou asked. 

“I _really _do.” Debbie smiled softly and combed her fingers through Lou’s hair, then reached back to tap the inside of Lou’s thigh. “Let me show you, baby. Spread your legs for me?”

“God, yes.” 

**

Pink and grey rays of dawn sunlight filtered through the curtains and found Debbie’s eyelids. She could feel that Lou was awake without opening her eyes. There were more than a few benefits that came with being incessantly observant, and one of them was a knack for noticing breathing patterns. Lou’s breathing was steady and soft, and perhaps a little quicker than Debbie would normally expect at this time in the morning. Then again, she felt her own pulse increase at the thought of waking up in bed with Lou, at the feeling of Lou’s smooth, bare limbs pressed up against her. She turned her head and nestled her face into Lou’s warmth with a small hum of contentment.

“Morning, honey,” Lou murmured, voice a little rusty from sleep.

“Mm,” Debbie managed. She mouthed at the skin in front of her, grazing her teeth against the side of Lou’s breast.

“Debs…” Lou said quietly.

“Mm?”

“I think you should open your eyes.”

“You have a surprise for me?” Debbie mumbled. She ran her hand down Lou’s side to her hip, letting her nails scratch lightly over her sleep-warmed skin.

“You could say that.”

Debbie was still too sleepy to be curious. She yawned against Lou’s chest and pressed into her. “Can’t I keep my eyes closed?”

“You’re gonna want to see this, Debs.” Lou sounded as though she were speaking around a laugh, and Debbie could almost feel the mirth radiating from her chest.

“Fine,” she said, keeping up her act of sleep-ridden annoyance. “What?” She blinked her eyes open.

“Well done,” Lou said with a grin.

Debbie rolled her [now-open] eyes. “_What_, Lou?”

Lou winked (badly), pushed herself into a seated position, and reached over to the bedside table beside the king-size bed. Debbie watched her, narrowing her eyes and trying to look bored instead of curious. Lou dug in her drawer for a second or two and then turned back to Debbie with a serious look on her face, hand clasped in a fist around something that Debbie couldn’t see.

“I don’t like surprises,” Debbie warned her, glaring up from her pillows. 

“Hm,” Lou responded, with a startlingly thoughtful look in her eye. She cleared her throat. “Debs…” she began.

“Ba-aby,” Debbie replied in a teasing sing-song voice. Whatever Lou was planning, Debbie wasn’t going to make it easy on her. They had played this game a thousand times. Lou liked giving Debbie little trinkets from thrift stores, or seashells from the beach. Debbie secretly loved it – kept everything Lou brought her in a little box back in New York, though she hardly ever admitted, even to herself, that the box was there.

“_Debbie_…

Debbie cocked her head and sat up, suddenly aware that – for whatever reason – Lou needed to be taken seriously at this moment. She took Lou’s free hand between both of her own and squeezed. “I’m listening,” Debbie assured her, heart beating violently in her chest. The urgency in Lou’s tone meant that there was something her observant Ocean senses had missed, that the tiny secret clutched in Lou’s fist was more than just a souvenir. 

Lou took a deep breath. Debbie felt Lou’s fingers twitch in her own, but her eyes were drawn to Lou’s other hand as her fingers uncurled and held up…

“Marry me, Debbie,” Lou said through a sigh.

Debbie’s eyes flicked up to Lou’s, noticing the intensity of her grey-blue irises behind a sheen of tears. She felt her lips part slightly, heard her breath hitch in the silent room. A deep sense of calm settled over Debbie, and everything clicked into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating American Thanksgiving! This holiday comes with a lot of baggage, both historical and emotional, so take care of yourselves. <3 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy the update. I'll be back to my Saturday posting schedule next week, so you can expect Chapter 11 on December 7. 
> 
> :)


	11. Invitations

Time distorted around them as Lou waited, looking into Debbie’s dark brown eyes. Debbie was disheveled. Her hair, which she had braided loosely the night before, fell in curling strands to frame her face. Her eyelids were still heavy with sleep, and one side of her face was pinker than the other from where it had been pressed against Lou’s shoulder. She took Lou’s breath away. She was…

But Debbie interrupted Lou’s search for the perfect word to describe her beauty. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. Her hands rose to frame Lou’s face, and Lou could feel her trembling. “Oh, God, Lou, of _course_, I’ll marry you.”

Debbie leaned forward and brushed her lips tenderly over Lou’s, and Lou didn’t care that she hadn’t yet had a chance to put the ring on Debbie’s finger because Debbie was warm and soft as sunlight against her. After several minutes, Debbie nibbled Lou’s lip and pulled away. They stared at each other for the space of seven heartbeats, which Lou heard loud in her ears and counted out of habit. Then Debbie’s eyes darted shyly to the ring still held between Lou’s forefingers and thumb. Amita had outdone herself, Lou thought, indeed she had almost wept when she first saw it. A single, symbolic diamond – plucked from a seventeenth century nuptial tiara – sat amongst an array of tiny emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. The effect was dazzling, but somehow understated. Platinum filigree wove between the gems in knotted patterns, allowing light to pass through the designs in places. Lou’s hand had shaken when Amita placed the ring in it for the first time, and she had used her other hand to cover her mouth as tears welled in her eyes…

“Lou,” Debbie said, snapping Lou back to the present. Tears were welling in her eyes again.

“Sorry,” she said, eyes focusing on Debbie’s.

Debbie smiled and held out her hand. “I always thought I’d be the one to…you know,” Debbie said softly.

“Even your plans have to change sometimes, Jailbird,” Lou said, raising Debbie’s newly- beringed hand to her mouth and brushing her lips over her knuckles one-by-one, lingering on her ring finger and admiring Amita’s handiwork up-close against Debbie’s skin.

Debbie laughed. “Yeah, baby, this _has _been the year for learning that particular lesson.”

Lou nodded. “Maybe I would have waited for you to ask,” she mused, “if you’d gotten out in March, if we'd run that job together.” She stroked her thumb back and forth over the back of Debbie’s hand. “But the day the job was done, the day I found out that Becker had been charged, the day that _should _have been us celebrating together…I knew I couldn’t wait too much longer because—”

“—because God knows I take my time with my feelings?”

“Well, _yes_, but what I was going to say was: because I realized I believed that you loved me, too. You trusted me with that job, and it worked. You trusted me even though I almost _walked_, Debs. You…” She choked on the words and ducked her head to dry her eyes on the sheets.

“But you _didn’t_,” Debbie said, almost harshly. “You didn’t walk. You didn’t.” She slid closer to Lou on the bed and hooked her legs around Lou’s hips until she was sitting in Lou’s lap, hands on her shoulders. Her weight was reassuring against Lou’s body. 

“I didn’t,” Lou said finally, once she could speak again. The words came out a little broken, but she didn’t try to hide it. “I realized…” She swallowed hard. “I realized that all the jokes, all the half-bullshit plans for the future, all the…the…” She sought for the right words. “…the pretending, the denying that we had been gone each other since the end of the last century…” Debbie hummed a wistful and appreciative laugh in response to the words. Lou took a deep breath before she finished, “…it wasn’t what I wanted anymore.”

“You knew I’d say yes, didn’t you?” Debbie asked astutely. “Before I even got out, you _knew_.”

Lou smiled and tucked a strand of flyaway hair behind Debbie’s ear. “I was pretty sure, but I know _you_ probably would have planned out every possible contingency if you had been the one asking.”

Debbie nodded seriously. “Yes, I would have.”

“I almost asked you the day you got out,” Lou admitted, “I didn’t have the ring yet, but _God_, I wanted to. But with everything…”

“I’m glad you saved it,” Debbie assured her.

“Part of me still wasn’t sure it was real, couldn’t quite believe that we had gotten here. Part of me still doesn’t quite believe it.”

“I’m _here_, baby.”

Lou rested her forehead against Debbie’s. “And then there was that girl in the bar last night,” Lou said through a sigh, “and I _knew. _I already knew I loved you, already knew I wanted to marry you, but I didn’t trust myself with those feelings until…” She trailed off.

“Until?” Debbie prompted.

“Until I realized that nothing in the world could make me want anyone but you.”

“Are you ruling out threesomes forever, baby, ‘cause—”

“_Debbie_.”

“Sorry.” Debbie grinned sheepishly, but Lou could see mischief in her shining eyes, and she wanted just one more minute to savor her unadulterated wonder at finally, _finally _sliding the ring onto Debbie’s finger. Lou tilted her head and brought her lips to Debbie’s, inviting Debbie to put all the authenticity she couldn’t quite articulate into something tactile. Debbie had always been better with touch, as far as Lou was concerned. Sure enough, Lou felt Debbie’s entire body relax into the kiss as she nibbled sincere “I love you’s” into the corner of Lou’s mouth and ran her tongue over Lou’s upper lip with something akin to gratitude. Lou clutched at the warm, soft skin of Debbie’s back, ran one hand up to the nape of her neck. Debbie tightened her hold around Lou’s torso and moaned into her mouth. Lou felt a pleasant, electric heat buzzing in her core, building until she couldn’t keep still any longer. She ran her hands down Debbie’s back, past her hips and lower until her fingertips grazed warm dampness between her thighs. Debbie gasped, pulling air from Lou’s own lungs, and Lou took the opportunity to flip them both over, pausing only when Debbie was beneath her, eyes wide and dark with surprise and arousal. Lou kept her left hand clutched tightly under Debbie’s hips as she brought her right hand around to Debbie’s front, between their bodies. Her fingers danced and caressed lower and lower, and Lou raised her eyebrows as she gazed into Debbie’s eyes.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Debbie murmured.

And Lou smiled. “I won’t.”

**

The leaves were blazing orange, red, and gold by the time they roared back into New York City in the middle of October. The theft of the crown jewels had made the news when they were in Denver, and Lou had passed her thumb back and forth over the diamond on Debbie’s finger as they watched the NBC report, smirking at the television as Debbie’s right hand ran up her leg under a dark-wood table in the back of a dimly-lit bar.

“So, now that it’s done, what’s next, Jailbird?” Lou had asked over breakfast the next morning.

Debbie had shrugged. “It’s not over until Claude’s in jail.”

“Any word on the trial?”

“December.”

“And then?” 

Debbie had looked back at Lou with a serious expression. “Need to make sure Marcia gets her parole at the end of January, and then we’ll have a wedding to plan, and _then_…well, I’m not going to let that rollercoaster blueprint go to waste.”

Now, as they sped through the Brooklyn streets that glowed fiery in the autumn sun, Lou was struck by how it all looked the same as when they had left at the end of June. So much had happened since then, so much had been said and decided. Lou’s whole world had shifted to revolve around Debbie, just as Debbie’s shifted to revolve around her. But New York looked the same, except perhaps a bit brighter, because Debbie was _home_ now, and Lou knew it was the city’s best kept secret that its streets missed Oceans as much as Oceans missed the streets.

The loft was empty when they reached it, but there was a teal Post-It note on the counter: _There’s lasagna in the freezer and champagne in the fridge. Congratulations, assholes! (Amita couldn’t keep the news to herself) xo, Tammy. _Lou smiled and passed the note to Debbie.

“I’m surprised they’re not all here to surprise us,” Debbie admitted, looking around as though she expected Constance to drop from the ceiling.

“They have their own lives,” Lou said with a shrug. She kissed Debbie on the cheek and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder to bring it upstairs. Debbie smiled, and there was something in that smile that Lou couldn’t quite pin down – something that had flitted behind Debbie’s eyes ever since her release from prison. Debbie was calm and calculating, but this was something more profound, and Lou only noticed it when it was just the two of them. It was the same thing that had worried her back in June, something that reminded her that prison had been _hard_, that even Debbie Ocean hadn’t escaped unchanged. But still, Lou loved whatever that _something _was, because it was only for her. She didn’t worry about it anymore; instead, she cherished it.

“Do you need to check up on the club today?” Debbie asked, flopping onto their bed. 

“For a bit,” Lou replied, “before opening. I promised Leslie I’d take it off her hands as soon as I got back. But I’ll be back for dinner, okay?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Debbie said in a voice muffled by pillows.

Lou started the shower and peeled off her leathers. She half-expected Debbie to join her under the warm spray of the water, but when she emerged ten minutes later, Debbie was still on the bed, now breathing slowly and deeply. Lou dressed quietly and reapplied her makeup, stealing glances at Debbie’s sleeping form every so often. When she had finished, she carefully lay down on the bed next to Debbie and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the snarls. Debbie shifted almost imperceptibly.

“Hey, baby,” came a soft voice from between the pillows. Debbie turned her head to blink lazily up at Lou. 

“Hey,” Lou said, not ceasing her gentle ministrations in Debbie’s hair. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Debbie hummed agreement, and Lou saw her eyelids drooping once more.

“You want help getting out of these?” Lou asked, tugging at the waistband of Debbie’s jeans.

Debbie lifted her hips in answer and allowed Lou to slide a hand under her and unfasten her jeans. Lou slid her palms onto the warm skin of Debbie’s legs and then shifted to pull the pants off her, leaving Debbie in black lace panties and the simple long-sleeve shirt she had worn under her leather jacket. Debbie made a clumsy attempt to undo her own bra, but failed, and Lou leaned over her with a sigh and unhooked it through her shirt.

“Better?” Lou asked.

“Yeah,” Debbie mumbled as she wiggled the bra out of her shirt. Lou watched her struggle in amusement, tongue in her cheek. The bra sailed over Lou’s head as Debbie finally freed it from her clothing and flung it across the room. It landed directly in the laundry hamper.

“Good shot,” Lou teased, leaning down to nibble Debbie’s earlobe.

Debbie mumbled something that sounded mysteriously like “fuck off” in reply.

With the image of Debbie peaceful and half-asleep in her head, Lou set off towards the club on her smaller, older bike. The corners of her mouth twitched occasionally into a broad grin beneath her helmet. It felt good to be home, felt even better to be home with Debbie starting the rest of their lives together. Lou felt color rise in her cheeks and chided herself. _Pull it together. Leslie will be insufferable if she sees you blushing like a schoolgirl. _

As it turned out, Nine Ball wasn’t the only one Lou should have been worrying about. When she reached the club, it was to find a colorful array of sports cars in the employee parking spaces. She narrowed her eyes at them as she strode up to the back entrance, wondering who they all belonged to – probably some yuppy young men in the fancy apartments down the street. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, ready to vent to Nine Ball about gentrification, but she stopped dead at the sight of most of the Met Gala team gathered around the bar. 

“Hey, boss,” Nine said with a casual wave from where she was draped over two stools as though Lou had been gone for four days rather than almost four months. 

“_Lou_!” Lou wasn’t sure who squealed her name. It might have been Amita or Tammy, both of whom were looking at her with wide eyes and hands over their mouths. Constance and Rose looked at her with blank surprise. Daphne – somewhat to Lou’s relief – wasn’t present. Before Lou had a chance to collect her wits or take another step inside the door, Tammy had rushed forward and enveloped her in a hug.

“We didn’t think you’d come by today. Nine kept insisting you would, but I thought you and Deb would want…Is everything okay? Why isn’t she with you? Did you…?” Tammy’s voice went from over-excited to anxious in a matter of seconds.

Lou laughed through her nose and planted a kiss into Tammy’s perfectly-coiffed hair. “We’re good, Tim-Tam, don’t worry. Debbie’s asleep. She passed out as soon as we got back, but I _did _tell Nine I was coming, and I don't _lie_.”

“Uh, you lie for Debbie,” Amita pointed out. “We all know that.”

Lou smirked, but she didn’t deny Amita’s assertion. “So, what are you all doing here?” She asked. “Saw the cars. Excellent choices, by the way.” She pulled herself away from Tammy and headed towards the bar.

“The Tesla’s mine, Daddy-o,” Constance said proudly, swinging herself onto a barstool and almost toppling off the other side of it.

Lou shot her a wink as she ran a finger along the array of shot glasses under the bar. Nine had kept everything exactly where Lou liked it. “Seriously, though,” Lou said, turning back to the room when she received no response to her question, “why are you all here?” She watched as a series of meaningful looks were exchanged between the other five women. Lou glared at them.

“Okay, cut the bullshit,” she said, settling her hands on her hips. “Did something happen with Becker? Or the club? Because…”

“Nah, man, it’s nothin’ like that,” Nine Ball said, interrupting Lou’s questions.

Lou raised her eyebrows threateningly and made a vague gesture inviting anyone to enlighten her of the situation.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Amita said quickly, glancing around nervously.

“Uh…okay…” Lou said, hoping _someone_ was just going to give up and _tell _her. As much as she respected all of them, she was only here to check-up on Nine and make sure everything was in order in time for opening tonight. On the one hand, it felt good to be back amongst the team. But on the other, seeing the team all around her reminded her of the lead-up to the Met Job, and Debbie had been in _jail_ for that. Debbie should’ve have been _out_, and she hadn’t been. Debbie had been in _prison_ and in _danger_, and Lou hadn’t been able to help her, hadn’t been able to prevent Debbie from coming home covered in bruises…Lou grimaced against the anxious montage of thoughts and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay?” she told them. “I’m just gonna go check some shit upstairs and then I’m going home. I’m fucking tired, and if you don’t want to tell m—”

“Here.” Tammy pulled an envelope from Nine’s back pocket and slid it across the table to Lou. “Consider it an engagement present if you want…or don’t. Whatever you want.” She smiled nervously at Lou.

Lou met Tammy’s gaze as she picked up the envelope, noticing a strange and unreadable look on her face. “Thanks,” Lou said, and she meant it. She trusted Tammy intrinsically. Tammy nodded. Lou slid one long finger under the envelope’s seal and pulled out the paper inside. Relief and bemusement rose in her chest as she read the brief note. She could have done without the drama, but it was sweet, really, to watch them all bending over backward to make things special for her and Debbie. Trying very hard not to roll her eyes, Lou folded the paper and slid it inside her leather jacket before glancing up at the group.

“What?” she asked, as though she couldn’t read the question smeared across each of their faces. Rose shifted anxiously in her seat, spinning the barstool back and forth. Tammy was trying not to smile, Constance and Amita looked confused, and Nine Ball was looking at Lou with some combination of amusement and reverence.

“So?” Tammy asked, after a minute of tense silence. “What are you going to do?”

Lou shrugged and shot her a wink. “Not my decision.” Tammy nodded understandingly.

“Mom’s got you whipped, huh?” Constance asked, leaning her chin on her fist and staring at Lou with interest. 

“Finally caved on the nickname?” Lou shot back, giving Constance a sidelong look. 

Constance shrugged. “I mean, y’all are getting hitched, right?”

Lou felt a soft smile tug at her lips. “Right.” 

**

Two hours later, Lou left the club through the backdoor with a wave to Nine Ball and April, who were helping that night’s DJ with the sound system. Dark storm clouds rolled across the sky as she sped towards the loft. The grey-green-purple sky looked ominous behind the bright orange and red trees, and by the time Lou parked in the garage, the clouds were spitting rain onto the city. Gusts of wind rippled across the bay, and with them came a downpour of water that Lou missed by mere seconds. Shutting the door tightly against the chill of the drafty garage, Lou kicked off her shoes and made to pull off her jacket.

“Hey, baby.” There was a smile in Debbie’s voice that Lou could hear before she saw her. When she turned to look, Lou had to hold in a gasp.

Debbie was sitting at the poker table, her favorite floral silk robe draped around her shoulders and tied loosely around her waist. Lou was fairly certain she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She had her bare feet propped on the chair across from her, giving Lou an excellent view of her legs. In front of her were two place settings – china plates, champagne flutes, silverware that shone in the light of the candles in the center of the table.

“Where…” Lou began and then stopped to clear her throat. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

Debbie raised her eyebrows. “That’s the question you’re asking?”

Lou clicked her tongue and then pressed it into her cheek, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Debbie’s eyes danced in the candlelight, mischievous.

“You said you’d be home for dinner,” Debbie said as she got to her feet and swept towards Lou. She came to stand in front of her, one hand rising to press against Lou’s sternum, fingers twisting into the chains at Lou’s neck. “You drove us across the country and back,” Debbie went on, in a lower voice now that she was so close, so _close_. “I wanted to do something…” She shrugged and frowned in a very characteristic way that made Lou’s stomach flip. “…romantic.”

Lou scoffed in mock-incredulity. “You? Romantic?”

“Hard to believe, I know,” Debbie agreed, sliding an arm around Lou’s waist and pulling her in until her body was pressed against Lou’s. Lou could feel the warmth of her bare skin under the thin silk robe.

“Hm,” Lou mused, taking a deep breath of Debbie’s scent – vanilla shampoo and coconut lotion and something that was just…just _Debbie_. “It’s easier than you’d think,” Lou told her. 

“What do you mean?” Debbie asked, pulling away from dragging her lips along Lou’s jaw.

Lou shrugged. “You’re good to me, Jailbird. Since you got out…” Lou traced the sharp line of Debbie’s jaw with the tip of her finger. “…since you got out, you’ve been able to show me.”

Debbie blushed a very subtle shade of pink that anyone but Lou would have missed. “I put the lasagna from Tammy in the oven,” Debbie said.

“See?” Lou said, kissing Debbie’s cheek. “You’re good to me.” She slid from Debbie’s embrace and strode to the kitchen, acutely aware of Debbie’s gaze following the sway of her hips. She shed her leather jacket and tossed it over one of the stools by the counter. “I have something for you, honey,” Lou said over her shoulder.

“Oh?” Debbie asked, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve got something for you, too.”

“Have you?” Lou asked as she pulled on oven mitts.

“Mm hmm. You should go first though.”

Lou bent down to retrieve the lasagna. “There’s an envelope in my jacket that’ll interest you.” She heard a rustling noise as Debbie dug out the envelope, pulled out the letter inside, and unfolded it. Lou placed the lasagna on the stove to cool and turned to look at Debbie, enjoying the way her eyes widened as she read the note.

“Are you shitting me, Miller?” Debbie asked.

“No,” Lou said with a grin. “Tammy said to consider it an engagement present.”

Debbie’s eyes traveled over the note once more. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered.

Lou shrugged. “Clubs get chosen for their atmosphere, and I guess mine is what they’re looking for. And if I agree to host an after-party, I get two tickets—”

“—to the Gala. Yeah, I read that,” Debbie interrupted, tapping the letter with her fingernail. “If only you’d had this a year ago, it would have—”

“Mm, but then you couldn’t have come with me. You were still in the clink,” said Lou.

Debbie smiled. “So, we’re going? To the goddamn Met Ball?”

“If you want to.”

“The irony is quite profound.”

“Yeah, you should have seen the others.” Lou pulled a knife from the block on the counter, twirled it several times, and then got to work cutting the lasagna. “Can you bring me the plates, honey?”

Debbie swept to the poker table and returned to place the china in front of Lou on the counter, and Lou scooped a slice of lasagna for each of them onto the plates. “You gonna wear that jumpsuit again, baby?” Debbie asked casually. Lou could tell she was trying to keep a note of true curiosity out of her voice.

Lou smiled, but didn’t look up from grating parmesan cheese. “I never ended up using it, Debs. Turned out, it was easier for Amita to slip me my piece of the Toussaint when I left with the crown jewels.” She passed Debbie her plate and caught a flash of concern in her dark eyes. “What?” Lou asked.

“You’re not one to miss a chance to dress up,” Debbie said with a shrug.

Lou sighed as she picked up her plate and made her way to the poker table. “It didn’t feel right without _you_, Jailbird,” she admitted.

“You kept the jumpsuit, though?” Debbie asked, sitting down across from her and picking up the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket on the table, which Lou hadn’t noticed before.

Lou scoffed. “Of course. I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity for additional Armani in my wardrobe, but I haven’t had a chance to use it, so…”

“So, you’ll wear it?”

“Wait and see.” Lou took a bite of lasagna and chewed slowly, watching Debbie struggle with the cork of the champagne bottle. Eventually she managed to pop it open and catch the first wave of froth in one of the glasses. “What are we toasting to, Debs?” Lou asked when they each had a drink.

Debbie uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. Noticing Debbie’s fidgeting, Lou put down her glass. “I got you something, baby,” Debbie said softly. Lou watched her fumble under the table for a moment. Then she pulled out a small, black velvet box and placed it carefully in front of Lou. 

Lou smiled softly at her. “Honey…”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Debbie began, eyes fixed on Lou’s as though they were the only thing willing her to get the words out of her throat. Lou knew it had never been easy for her, that Debbie’s head usually got in the way of her heart. She waited, heart pounding in her chest. “I want to ask you,” Debbie went on, “I think I’ve wanted to ask you since I made up the lie about proposing in order to get that private visit, and I think _part _of me has wanted to ask you for much, _much_ longer than that. Lou…” She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Lou, baby…” Lou could see her jaw working over the words.

“Breathe, Debs,” Lou advised. Debbie gave a shaky laugh and placed her champagne flute on the table with trembling fingers. She reached across the table, and Lou folded her hand in both of hers.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Debbie whispered. Her lip quivered, and she bit it, looking frustrated with herself. She let out an audible sigh.

“You don’t have to be good at everything,” Lou said softly, rubbing the tension out of Debbie’s palm with her fingers. “That’s why we—”

“There’s one thing I _need _to say, though, and that’s thank you,” Debbie said, interrupting Lou in a stronger voice. “You got me that phone; you showed up for that visit when I…” She swallowed hard. “…when I had to stay inside. You ran that job for me. Baby, that was my _dream _job, and I still can’t believe that I trusted you to do it…” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “…but I did, and…and you _did_ it, _we _did it.” She sighed and squeezed Lou’s hand. Lou tried to smile back, but the lump growing in her throat seemed to be affecting her facial muscles. “You made a _home _for me; you brought me here,” Debbie went on, “and you convinced me to rest, which is no easy feat. Then our trip – California – and you gave me this, you _asked _me.” She held her left hand up to the candlelight. The many-colored gems on her ring finger sparkled, and the single diamond shone.

Lou tried to speak, but the words got caught in her throat. She tried to clear it, but was unsuccessful, and the burning behind her eyes grew more present. She disentangled one of her hands from Debbie’s and rubbed the side of her forefinger under each of her eyes. It came away with streaks of mascara mixed with salty tears. It was difficult to look at Debbie. She settled on squinting at the little black box between them, all the while squeezing Debbie’s hand more tightly.

“So, Lou, before the food gets cold,” Debbie said. Lou could hear the smile in her voice. “Turns out, I don’t have diamond, but I never took you for a diamond girl anyway.” Lou laughed weakly and shrugged in noncommittal agreement. Diamonds were too bland for her taste, too _hard_ – Lou liked malleability and doubt. Indeed, she wouldn’t have used a diamond for Debbie’s ring at all had it not been from the heist itself. Debbie tugged her hand gently out of Lou’s grip and lifted the box in shaking fingers. It snapped open with a satisfying click, and Lou looked down at the most beautiful opal ring she had ever seen – three stones wrapped in gold filigree, different colors, but all equally luminescent.

Lou sniffed loudly and held the back of her shaking hand to her nose and mouth. “It’s…it’s _perfect_, Debs,” she managed after a moment. “I—” 

“Sh.” Debbie held a finger to Lou’s lips. “Let me ask. Please.”

“Ask me, then.”

Debbie took a deep breath and let the words out in a sigh. “Marry me, baby?”

“_Fuck_, yes,” Lou said through a watery grin, holding out her hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad people are enjoying this story! :)


	12. Touch Me, I'm So Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags: Bath sex, light dom/sub, fisting

Tammy’s lasagna was excellent, and the champagne was even better. Lou kept playing with her ring, twisting it back and forth on her finger, letting it catch the light from the candles now dripping wax onto the poker table. Debbie talked and smirked and laughed, and Lou watched her. She thought her heart might burst open, felt a swooping sensation in her stomach every time Debbie’s eyes met hers, sending electricity to her fingertips. Debbie’s gaze was warm and knowing, as if each thrill through Lou’s body was an intentional stroke of desire. And oh, Lou wanted her. She wanted to take apart Debbie’s airy confidence, wanted her to feel a modicum of the wonder Lou felt as she looked at her. She wanted to _feel _every inch of her, submerge both of them in sensation until the only thing left was the flecks of gold in Debbie’s eyes, reaching out to the silver in her own.

As Debbie cleared the table, Lou split the last of the champagne between their glasses and felt a heady anticipation in the air. Debbie had flatly forbidden Lou to help clean up, so Lou leaned on the railing of the staircase, watching Debbie flit around the room, thinking. The month after Debbie’s release had been cathartic – a time for Debbie to heal and for each of them to catch each other up on all they had missed in the last ten years. It was tender and soft and _necessary_. The months on the bike, in contrast, had been about calculated risk, about Lou pushing Debbie up against the wall of one of their hotel rooms just to remember what that felt like, about Debbie dragging Lou onto a hidden patch of beach and kissing her until neither of them could stay on their feet. The trip had been characterized by give and take, flirting with limits that had been codified and solid many years before, but were now porous and blurry. It was poignant and hopeful, but bittersweet, too, because they had lost so much time together. That grief still lingered. Now – tonight – Lou knew this was the next stage of _them_. This was trust and vulnerability and strength that would have to last, that couldn’t _not _last.

“I have one more surprise for you, baby,” Debbie said, sweeping over to Lou at last and tugging her glass of champagne from her hand.

Lou smiled, pleased to have her thoughts interrupted. It was time for actions instead of ideas. “Do you?”

“Come on.”

Debbie led Lou upstairs, past the plethora of doors, to Lou’s room around the corner of the balcony. It looked the same as earlier – even down to the bedclothes, which were still rumpled from Debbie’s nap. Lou narrowed her eyes, half expecting something to jump out at her, though that wasn’t really Debbie’s style.

“In here,” Debbie said, pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Lou stifled a gasp behind a snort of laughter. In the side of the room not taken up by the shower, there was now an enormous, claw-footed bathtub with shiny, new plumbing that fit seamlessly into the décor as if it had always been there. Debbie sat on the edge of the tub, looking at Lou with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Where’d you steal that?” Lou asked, eyebrows raised.

“I _bought_ it, baby,” Debbie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and grinning widely.

“Oh, _did _you?”

Debbie rolled her eyes. “I _did_. I may have gotten a better deal on it than what was originally offered, but I paid money for it, I promise.”

Lou pursed her lips and stuck her tongue in her cheek, trying not to let Debbie see how pleased she was. It wasn’t about the bathtub itself – though the idea of her own wet skin sliding against Debbie’s under the water was doing nothing to lessen the blush rising on her cheeks – it was about the fact that Debbie believed this was _home_.

“You _love _it, don’t you?” Debbie said matter-of-factly, tilting her head slightly as she watched Lou.

“I love _you_, Debs.”

Debbie nodded slowly, a soft smile glowing on her face. “You want to try it out?”

Behind Debbie’s tender expression, Lou sensed a game, but she wasn’t certain of Debbie’s goal yet, and for now, she was more than willing to play along. “Yeah,” she said almost shyly, “I really do.”

“Thought so.” Debbie turned on the tap and adjusted the temperature. Lou took a step towards the cupboard for towels, but Debbie held up a hand. “Nh-uh, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Lou rolled her eyes, but she stopped moving all the same. “Let me do _something_, Debbie.”

Debbie sighed exasperatedly. “Fine.” She stepped into Lou’s space and trailed a hand up the front of her vest to tug at the top button lying tight against Lou’s sternum. “Get naked for me?” Debbie asked, her lips an inch from Lou’s.

Lou felt goosebumps rise over her entire body at Debbie’s words, but she kept her cool and met Debbie’s gaze. “Sure,” she replied, in what she hoped was a frank tone. Lou placed her flute of champagne on the counter by the sink and began removing her necklaces one by one. Next came her rings, though she hesitated with the new opal one on her left ring-finger.

“Here,” Debbie said, holding out a small china dish with gold edging. Her own ring was already sitting in it, glittering in the bright lights of the bathroom. Lou smiled and placed her own next to Debbie’s, feeling warmth in her fingertips at the sight of them lying next to each other. Once Debbie had swept away, now collecting bath salts and bubble bath that she had acquired from God-knows-where, Lou began to undress. She did it slowly, enjoying the way Debbie’s eyes found and lingered on each newly-exposed swath of skin. Debbie _wanted _her, and it made Lou’s head spin. At last, everything was ready, and Debbie shed her silk robe. Lou’s mouth felt dry as she took a final sip of champagne before climbing into the bath and settling herself against Debbie’s chest. It wasn’t the most logical arrangement – Lou was taller and lankier – but tonight Lou could tell that it was what Debbie wanted. She leaned her head back onto Debbie’s shoulder and melted into her embrace.

“You feel good,” Lou murmured.

Debbie nuzzled her nose into Lou’s jaw. “You too.” The water – smooth and slick with bath salts and essential oils – moved like silk over Lou’s body as Debbie’s hands trailed circles over her stomach. She felt her muscles twitch involuntarily in response. Debbie hummed a quiet laugh in Lou’s ear and tugged her tighter against her body. Lou could feel the tickling friction of Debbie’s pubic hair against her sacrum, and the sensation made her intensely aware of their closeness. She couldn’t prevent a moan from escaping from her throat.

“You’re very eager,” Debbie observed.

“_Fuck_ me, Deborah.”

“Mm. Demanding, too. Interesting,” Debbie mused. “Say it again?”

Lou groaned and arched her back. She slid her hands over the backs of Debbie’s and interlaced their fingers, then guided her left hand to her breast and her right to her inner thigh. “Please, Debbie,” Lou said, fully aware that Debbie would respond to nothing less than begging, “fuck me.”

Debbie nibbled Lou’s ear lobe and began to move her fingers. Her left hand alternated between Lou’s breasts, twisting and tugging at her nipples as her right hand kneaded Lou’s inner thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. The water lapped against Lou’s chest, heightening the sensations elicited by Debbie’s fingers. Her thoughts blurred and the steam floating up from the hot water made it hard to see. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back further over Debbie’s shoulder. As soon as she did so, Debbie’s lips were on her throat, and Lou whimpered, almost prepared to fall apart before Debbie had truly _touched _her. Teeth grazed her pulse point, and Debbie’s fingers tightened on her left nipple just as her right hand finally cupped between Lou’s legs.

“Debbie…” Lou cautioned breathlessly.

“What? Are you close already?” Debbie asked innocently, her breath was cool against Lou’s ear.

“Oh, God, so close. I…I’m so close,” Lou stammered.

Debbie’s hands stopped, though Lou could feel them trembling. Lou knew that taking her apart was almost as thrilling for Debbie as when the roles were reversed. Lou’s body was coiled like a spring, tight and warm, and she could feel her pulse throbbing between her legs where Debbie’s hand was still pressed like a promise. _Not enough_.

“_Please_, Debbie,” Lou said, in a firmer voice. She took a deep breath and allowed the proximity of her orgasm fade slightly. Despite the disjointed nature of her aroused thoughts, she realized that it had been a very long time since Debbie had managed to get her _this _close, _this _quickly just from teasing. “Fuck,” she whispered.

“Ask me, baby.”

Lou groaned and made to roll her hips into Debbie’s hand, desperate for something more than static pressure, but Debbie let her left hand fall to Lou’s waist to anchor her lower body in place. “L…let me…” She began, but her tone was rough, and she stopped to clear her throat. “Let me come, please,” she said, voice breathy and a little broken. “_Please_, Debs, please make me come.”

“Good job, baby,” Debbie murmured. Her hand twitched between Lou’s legs and then began to rub firm, tight circles over her. Lou let herself relax into the sensations, let the warmth bloom in her abdomen and overtake her senses. It took less than twenty seconds for her whole body to quiver against Debbie’s.

“Fuck, _fuck_, Debs,” Lou gasped as she came back to herself, “that was—”

“We’re not done,” Debbie said in a business-like tone. She sank her fingers into Lou all the way up to the knuckles, taking full advantage of the slippery quality of the water and curling them _just _the way Lou liked.

“Oh, shit,” Lou cursed, turning her head to bury her face in Debbie’s neck.

“You asked me to make you come,” Debbie said patiently, setting a quick rhythm inside Lou that already had her thighs trembling. “And you should know,” Debbie went on, “I’m a bit of an overachiever.” Lou muffled a cry in Debbie’ neck, hands clenching the sides of the tub. Her hips jerked as she came, splashing water over the side of the tub, but Lou couldn’t have cared less about a few small puddles of water as Debbie massaged her through the aftershocks.

“Jesus _Christ_,” Lou muttered as Debbie slid her fingers out of her at last.

“You’re hot when you come,” Debbie said in a softer tone. She sounded a little cautious, like she always did on the rare occasions she took control of their sex life. It was one of the things that Lou found so endearing: the stark contrast between her wild energy and the soft wonder in her eyes _after_, wonder – perhaps – that Lou allowed Debbie that control in the first place, that Lou _wanted _that with her. Lou nuzzled Debbie’s jaw and reached for her hands under the water, squeezing tightly.

“You’re so good for me, honey,” Lou murmured, and she felt Debbie’s jaw move as she smiled and sighed. They sat like that for a long time, silent and _close_ as the bubbles dissolved around them. Eventually, the water temperature dropped noticeably, and Debbie shifted behind Lou.

“We should get out,” Debbie said, poking Lou in the ribs. 

“Mm. What’s my incentive?” Lou asked teasingly, refusing to budge.

“I might have an idea,” Debbie said casually. Lou remembered the sly look in Debbie’s eye before the bath. There was a _game_ here, under everything, and Lou knew that Debbie still thought she was winning.

Lou yawned and pulled herself off Debbie’s chest so they could both climb out of the bath. “Care to elaborate, Debs?” she asked as she tossed Debbie a towel and wrapped her own around herself.

Debbie stepped close to her, lips brushing Lou’s ear. “You get to fuck me with the strap as long and as hard as you want.” She planted a soft kiss to Lou’s neck. Lou felt herself shiver, giving away her own desire. It had been a long time since she had Debbie like that, and _oh_, she wanted it. But that would mean that Debbie’s little game would end, and Lou was fairly sure that Debbie’s goal here was provocation, not capitulation.

“Hm, no, I don’t think so,” Lou said, as though she was thinking through Debbie’s request. “I have a better idea, if you’re up for it.” She tucked her towel firmly around herself and moved her hands to Debbie’s shoulders, thumbs trailing up and down the base of her neck. She took a step back and met Debbie’s gaze, which was dark with challenge and anticipation.

“What do you want, baby?” Debbie asked. Then she bit her lower lip, and the sight made Lou shiver once more.

She looked hard into Debbie’s eyes and reached up to tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “I want to go slow,” Lou began, voice heavy in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted this until mere moments ago, but suddenly she couldn’t imagine why they hadn’t tried it before. “I want to open you up with my tongue and then with my fingers,” Lou continued. Debbie licked her lips, and her hands slipped onto Lou’s hips, clutching through the fabric of the towel. Lou could tell this was what she wanted, that Debbie had taken control earlier for the sole purpose of watching Lou wrest it from her hands.

“And then?” Debbie prompted breathlessly.

Lou smiled, pleased that Debbie had sensed that she wasn’t finished explaining her plan. “And _then_, honey, I want my whole hand inside you, filling you up.”

“We’ve never done that before,” Debbie murmured.

“I only want to do this if _you _want to,” she told her. “I—”

“I _definitely _want to,” Debbie interrupted. Her eyes were sincere and her jaw was set. “Oh, _fuck_, I never knew I did, but I do. _Christ_, Lou…”

Lou kissed her, tugging Debbie close against her chest and feeling both of their heart rates increase. “You really want to try?” Lou asked against Debbie’s mouth.

“Yes,” Debbie replied at once, “_God_, yes…want you to fist me.”

Lou felt tears pricking her eyes as she kissed Debbie once more. The fact that Debbie Ocean would trust her with anything – her heist of the century, her life, her _love_ – really meant something, and Debbie’s willingness to trust Lou with her _body_ was a symbol of all of that. It was almost overwhelming. Lou blinked the tears away, replacing them with focus and desire. Debbie was already soft and pliant, and perhaps it was _that_ – the warm bath, the even-warmer feel of Debbie pressed against her – which had brought Lou to this idea in the first place. She slid her hands down Debbie’s front and gently pushed her towards the door. Debbie’s hand found hers, caressing softly with a lot more purpose than usual, and Lou felt a thrill at the thought of what that hand would soon be doing. 

Debbie tugged her into the bedroom, only letting go of Lou’s hand once she had reached the bed. Lou helped her lay both of their towels on top of the bedspread and then went to her dresser to get lube. Her entire body felt warm and relaxed from the bath, but as she turned back to the bed and saw Debbie sprawled across it with her legs spread unashamedly and her lips kiss-swollen, Lou nearly swooned as arousal coursed through her once more.

“For heaven’s sake, Lou, you’re practically _drooling_,” Debbie observed, rubbing a hand over herself in an absentminded way, dipping _into_ herself as Lou watched.

“Well, _you’re _practically dripping, honey,” Lou shot back, nodding towards Debbie’s fingertips, which were, indeed, very wet. Debbie shrugged her agreement to Lou’s words as she sucked her own fingers into her mouth. After a moment or two, she released them with a pop. Lou licked her lips. Joining Debbie on the bed, Lou placed the lube within arm’s reach and kneeled between Debbie’s legs. Debbie bent her knees, and Lou settled her hands on the backs of Debbie’s thighs, pressing gently. She heard Debbie’s breath hitch as she moved her thumbs inward, just barely grazing against slick heat.

“I want your tongue, baby,” Debbie requested in a breathy voice.

Lou nodded and positioned herself on her stomach, bringing her mouth level with Debbie’s entrance and breathing in her scent, which mixed perfectly with the aromas of lavender and mint left over from the bath. “Tell me when you’re getting close, okay?” Lou asked. “I don’t want you to come just yet.”

“I will,” Debbie assured her, reaching down to sweep Lou’s fringe away from her eyes. “I promise.”

Lou smiled as she pressed her lips onto the silk-soft skin of Debbie’s thigh. Debbie’s hand fell heavily onto the back of Lou’s head, attempting to guide her into place, but Lou resisted the pressure, nibbling her way slowly inwards until her mouth met wet heat. Debbie’s fingers twitched, and Lou heard her moan appreciatively. Methodically, knowing how important it was to work Debbie up as slowly as she could, Lou licked back and forth over her with firm, even pressure. She dipped the tip of her tongue inside her every so often, but never for more than a second just to gather more of her taste. Lou felt like she could stay here forever, keeping Debbie warm and buzzing with arousal, but not yet close to the edge.

Eventually, once Debbie’s breaths were coming out in a stream of whimpers and whispered curses, Lou switched to soft, kittenish licks and gentle sucking in unexpected places, lingering on sensitive areas just long enough for Debbie’s hips to jerk. She could feel Debbie becoming wetter under her chin, and she inched lower, tongue circling Debbie’s entrance in smaller and smaller spirals. After a few minutes, she pressed Debbie’s thighs apart as far as they would go and slid her tongue inside her with more purpose. Debbie tipped her chin forward, heavy-lidded eyes gazing into Lou’s, entranced. Lou raised her eyebrows at her, and Debbie parted her lips.

“I’m close, baby,” she murmured, voice cracking. Lou slowed her pace, though she didn’t immediately withdraw her tongue. Instead, she ran it slowly over velvet skin, pressing gently against her walls and feeling Debbie’s muscles relax in response. “_Baby_…” Debbie warned two minutes later, and Lou pulled back at last, wiping her mouth and chin with the back of her hand.

“You taste so good,” Lou murmured, licking her lips obscenely as Debbie watched. Debbie reached for her and pulled her down into a sloppy kiss. When they broke apart, Debbie was panting. “Are you ready to move on?” Lou asked.

Debbie nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” she said.

Lou knelt between Debbie’s legs and reached for the lube. She hesitated for a second, quickly deciding which hand would be easier for both of them, before cracking open the bottle and squeezing more than a few drops onto the fingers of her left hand. She rubbed her fingers together, spreading the liquid evenly across her skin, and then allowed several drops to fall directly onto Debbie, who moaned at the feeling and closed her eyes. She was beautiful like this, Lou thought – vulnerable, trusting, and honest. Her skin seemed to shine in the soft light of the lamp on the dresser; Lou could have spent an hour just staring at her, amazed that Debbie _Ocean_ was lying before her with her knees pulled to her chest and…

“_Lou_,” Debbie prompted her. Her eyes were open once more, and she was looking at Lou with accusatory amusement. 

Lou cleared her throat. “Sorry, you’re just…” She trailed off.

Debbie sucked her lower lip into her mouth and then gave her a pursed lip smile. “I’m ready, baby,” she said softly.

Lou swallowed hard. “T-tell me if you need a break, okay? Or if you need me to pause, or if you want to stop.”

Debbie nodded and took a deep breath. “I want you inside me, Lou.” She reached for Lou’s hand, and Lou held it out for her. “Want you,” Debbie repeated, as she guided Lou’s fingers between her legs. They both gasped as Lou’s fingertips brushed over her entrance, slippery and warm.

Lou worked slowly. She slipped one long finger all the way into Debbie, rotating slowly and massaging gently. Debbie watched her with utmost concentration, taking steady deep breaths. When Lou added a second finger, Debbie hummed a moan, but then she sighed and relaxed around her. Lou leaned forward and kissed her, slowly and deeply, letting the warmth between them ebb and flow. Lou found that the slick sound of her fingers moving in and out of Debbie was almost addicting.

“Another,” Debbie said as they broke apart. Lou nodded, squeezed more lube onto her fingers without fully pulling out of her, and pressed into her once more. She met hardly any resistance, and even with the lube, Lou could feel that Debbie was getting wetter.

“You look incredible like this, you know?” Lou said.

Debbie managed a breathy laugh. “So do you,” she said, reaching out for Lou’s free right hand and entwining their fingers.

“What do you mean?” Lou asked, never ceasing her movements inside Debbie, but curious all the same.

Debbie sighed and shrugged. “It’s the same look you get when you’re assessing one of my plans for the first time. It’s…it’s what I missed most, baby, when I was inside. Especially, when I had to run the Met Job from prison, I…” She cut herself off with a small whimper as Lou added a fourth finger, moving even more slowly now. “…I wanted to see your face. It’s so simple, so _stupid_, really, but—”

“It’s not _stupid_, Debs,” Lou admonished. “It makes sense. I missed watching you lead that job. Do you know how hot you are when you control a room?”

“If it’s anything like what you look like right now, then yes,” Debbie said, “I do.”

Lou squeezed her hand and then loosened her grip to reach for the bottle of lube once more. This time, she pulled all the way out of Debbie and coated her entire hand. Debbie’s lips parted as she watched her, and a flush of dark pink rose on Debbie’s cheeks and traveled over her collarbones. Lou traced Debbie’s entrance with her fingertips, imagining her entire hand inside her and feeling another thrill of anticipation. She could tell by the tremble of Debbie’s thighs and by how swollen she was that Debbie was reaching the peak of her arousal, but she was still taking deep breaths, steadying herself.

“That’s my girl,” Lou murmured, reaching up to stroke the side of Debbie’s face. “Are you ready, honey?”

Debbie turned her head to press a kiss to Lou’s palm. “So ready.”

Lou sank into her once more, this time tucking her thumb tightly against her other fingers. She slipped in easily up to her knuckles, and Debbie groaned with pleasure, head flung back against the pillows. Lou could hear the blood rushing in her ears, could feel her own arousal sitting heavy between her legs. The fact that Debbie was taking her like this, accepting Lou _into _her, it awoke something primal in Lou that she hadn’t felt before. She took a few shaky breaths.

“I can feel you trembling,” Debbie murmured, voice deeper than Lou had ever heard it. Lou looked up to see Debbie’s eyes fixed on her face once more. 

Lou hummed a laugh. “Yeah, well, you should see my view right now,” she replied, eyes darting back down to where her own fingers were disappearing into her.

“You feel so good inside me, baby,” Debbie said, “so good.”

“Are you close, Debs?”

“Baby, I’ve been close for at least twenty minutes, but I won’t come until you ask me to,” Debbie said in a pseudo-bored tone, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lou gulped and cleared her throat. Her pulse beat rapidly between her legs. “Uh…okay,” she managed. She flexed her fingers experimentally and felt Debbie bloom open around her hand. She pumped her fingers in and out slowly, pressing a little deeper each time until she couldn’t go any further. She rotated her wrist a fraction of an inch and poured a few more drops of lube onto her knuckles and the base of her thumb. “It might hurt for just a second, Debs, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Debbie said at once, nodding vigorously. “God, Lou, want to feel you inside me so bad, baby.”

“You trust me, honey?”

Debbie’s eyes were hard as diamonds when they met Lou’s. “I trust you, Lou.” There was a lot more to that than just sex, but for now it was what Lou needed to continue.

“I love you,” Lou said, sliding her right hand into Debbie’s left, giving her something to grasp. “Take a deep breath.” Debbie inhaled, and Lou felt her muscles unclench just enough around her knuckles. As Debbie exhaled, Lou pushed forward.

“Fuck,” Debbie mouthed, though the only sound that came out was an incoherent whimper. She gripped Lou’s right hand tightly in hers, fingers trembling. 

Lou stayed still, amazed at the sight and feeling of Debbie quivering around her wrist. She bent and placed kisses along Debbie’s shins up to her knees, the easiest place for Lou to reach. “Tell me when I can move, okay?” she asked. 

Debbie nodded almost imperceptibly. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but the expression on her face was positively blissful, and Lou felt a rush of pride flow through her. After a minute or so, Debbie swallowed hard and opened her mouth. “Fuck me, baby,” she murmured. Her eyes fluttered open, and Lou’s stomach flipped with pleasure. “_Lou_, fuck me.”

Lou let her fingers relax inside Debbie as she slid back and forth. The heat around her hand was almost unbearable, and she could only imagine what Debbie was feeling, how close she was to coming apart. After a few gentle movements, Debbie began rolling her hips to meet Lou’s thrusts. Her eyes stayed open, though they were glazed with pleasure, and Lou couldn’t decide whether to keep her eyes on Debbie’s face or to watch her wrist sliding in and out of Debbie’s body. She settled on letting her eyes dart between the two, completely mesmerized. After a minute, each of Debbie’s breaths was accompanied by a whine, and Lou could feel her inner muscles tightening.

“Do you want to come, honey?” Lou asked. “Can you come on my hand?”

Debbie nodded erratically, heading tossing back onto the pillows behind her. “Yes, baby, yes. Please, pl—”

“What do you need, Debs?” Lou asked, moving her wrist purposefully and keeping her voice steady.

“Y-your mouth. Please, Lou, need you to suck me, baby. Your tongue…your mouth…” Debbie trailed off into a cry as Lou spread her fingers inside her, subtly stroking.

“Okay, honey, okay…I’m gonna make you come now, alright?”

“_Please_, baby,” Debbie gasped. Lou saw tears gathering in the corners of Debbie’s eyes.

Lou repositioned herself between Debbie’s legs without removing her hand from inside her. Debbie’s hips jerked as Lou’s breath passed over her swollen skin, and Lou marveled at her sensitivity. She used her right hand – still wrapped in Debbie’s – to press against Debbie’s lower abdomen, keeping her still as she fastened her lips around her and sucked hard. Debbie cried out, shuddered, and pulsed, her muscles clenching on Lou’s entire hand in a steady rhythm that lasted at least ten seconds. Lou kept her mouth on Debbie, maintaining firm suction and watching her entire body shake. As Debbie finally relaxed, Lou kept licking over her in gentle, soothing strokes. At last she felt Debbie’s muscles unclench from around her wrist, and she slid out of her very slowly, inch by inch until only two fingers remained inside her, allowing Debbie to readjust.

“Baby?” Debbie whispered after a moment, looking down at Lou through hooded eyes.

Lou finally lifted her lips from Debbie’s damp skin. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Lou smiled and kissed her way up Debbie’s body, sliding her fingers out of her as she did so and wiping the sticky combination of lube and arousal on the towels beneath them. She settled next to Debbie on the bed, nestling into Debbie’s shoulder as Debbie’s breathing slowed back to normal.

“That felt…” Debbie shook her head as if words were eluding her. “…that felt…” There were tears in her eyes and a soft smile on her face. Lou propped herself up on an elbow to look at her.

“Good?” Lou asked.

“Amazing,” Debbie said. She reached up and tangled her fingers in Lou’s hair, pulling her into a kiss.

_Home_, Lou thought. _We’re home now_. She felt Debbie’s movements grow languid and heavy, felt a swirling tiredness filling her own body. Pulling away from Debbie reluctantly, she used one of the towels to clean both of them up a bit, then helped Debbie climb under the covers. Almost as an afterthought, Lou crossed over to the dresser, pulled out the strap and harness, and laid it on the floor next to her bedside table. Debbie had asked for it in the first place, and after seeing Debbie take her whole hand, after feeling her fall apart like _that_, well…Lou wasn’t going to deny Debbie _anything _when morning came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I was more nervous about posting this than I thought I would be (I wrote it a while ago), but I'm really pleased with how it turned out, and I think it does a lot for these two in this context. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> P.S. I am taking prompts for Heist Wives sex-toy fics on tumblr (even if you don't have tumblr you can submit an "ask"). It'll be published as a series of one-shots. If you have a request, let me know! (e.g. dildo/pre-canon). You can be as specific or vague as you want. @estel-of-irysi


	13. Tick-Tock

_Dear Debbie,_

_Thanks for the letter. I told you she would ask you, didn’t I? When’s the wedding? Finally got the date of my next hearing – end of January. I don’t think I’ll get it, never have before. Dina’s been good, and she said she would get this to you by Christmas. I was watching you, turns out I learned something. Consider it an engagement/Christmas gift from Officer Becker (and me). It’s boring as shit here without you. Never thought I’d miss all that nerdy-ass shit you used to say. Merry Christmas, Ocean!_

_Love, Marcia_

Debbie smiled at Marcia’s words and shook a simple, brown leather and brass wristwatch out of the envelope. There was no monogram, but Debbie recognized it. Her ribs seemed to tingle as she looked at it, reminding her of the bruises its owner had inflicted. She placed the watch on the poker table in front of her and glanced over at Lou, sprawled across the couch and fast asleep. The week before Christmas was a busy time at the club, and Lou had been out late the night before. Debbie highly suspected she had caught a cold, based on her red-rimmed eyes and the snores emanating from her supine form. So far, Lou was firmly denying being ill.

Debbie traced her finger around the outline of the watch and then picked up the clipping from the New York Times lying near her right hand. She had read it at least a thousand times since its publication on the fifth of the month. Debbie had memorized the words by the third reading, but she liked looking at them, liked reminding herself that it was _real_. A sketch of Claude Becker’s scowling face sat atop a short column detailing his trial and conviction on accounts of insurance fraud and theft of the Toussaint. The prosecutors had decided against pressing charges of grand theft of the crown jewels after all evidence coincidentally pointed to a lapidary in Moscow. Debbie had been disappointed, but then again, even she couldn’t predict every contingency. It didn’t matter much; Claude’s sentence was still longer than hers had been, and that was all she really cared about. It was _over_.

A groan emanated from the couch, and Debbie looked over to see Lou stirring to life. “_Fuck_, I feel like shit,” Lou mumbled, voice even lower and raspier than usual. 

“Well, you _sound_ like cigarettes and sex,” Debbie said, pushing her chair back from the table and sweeping over to stand behind the couch’s armrest by Lou’s head.

Lou rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Fuck _off_, Ocean.”

“I won’t. You _know _I won’t.” Debbie slid her fingers into Lou’s hair massaging gently.

Lou shrugged weakly. “I’m gonna call in. I’m not useful like this. You know if Leslie’s around?”

“Yeah, talked to her earlier,” Debbie replied. “She’s got Marcia’s parole all fixed. Tammy has an interview for the parole board officer position on the twenty-seventh, and Dina’s on the hiring committee. Leslie said she’s bored now that it’s all in place; I’m sure she can help at the club if you need the extra hands.”

Lou nodded, pulled out her phone, and typed a brief text to Nine Ball. When it was sent she settled her head back on the armrest and allowed Debbie to resume the gentle movements of her fingers. Debbie knelt beside the couch to bring her face on a level with Lou’s and rested her chin on top of the armrest.

“Claude’s gallery is for sale,” she said, not ceasing her caress of Lou’s scalp.

Lou cracked an eye open. “And…?”

Debbie sighed. “Wouldn’t be a bad place for what Leslie’s been describing,” she explained in a casual tone. “It’s a good location, gets a lot of local traffic, but a fair number of tourists, too.”

“Isn’t that a risk, Debs? Couldn’t any of his transactions be investigated?”

Debbie shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You already made an offer, didn’t you?”

“Possibly…”

“_Deborah_…” Lou’s cautioning tone was even more forbidding than usual with her chest congestion.

“I used an alias. Jesus, Lou, I’m not _that _stupid.”

Lou rolled her eyes and pushed herself into a seated position. Debbie was struck by the concern in Lou’s eyes. “No, Debs, you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met, but you _know _I don’t like this. I don’t like _him_, I don’t like what he did to you, I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Debbie said placatingly. She sat down on the couch beside Lou and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I know, baby, I know. It’s not…not _revenge_ this time. I promise. It’s just a coincidence. Leslie’s looking for a place, and I _do _want the gallery in different hands. I think it would be better for _all _of us.”

Lou sighed with her head tilted towards the ceiling. “Just…just let this go sometime, Debbie. I can’t believe I’m agreeing with John Frazier on this, but—”

“What did he say?” Debbie asked, smoothing Lou’s bangs to the side to check her temperature and furrowing her brow when her palm met skin that was far too warm.

“He said you would need to let this go.”

“He knew it was me?”

“Debbie, _I_ know that _you _know that _he_ knew, so cut the bullshit.”

Debbie smiled. “What’d you tell him?”

Lou shook her head and reached up to take Debbie’s left hand in hers from where it had rested against Lou’s neck after Debbie took her temperature. “I told him that one day, you would.”

“I _will, _baby. I promise.”

“Put it in your wedding vows?”

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Speaking of which…” She changed the subject before Lou could voice any other thoughts on Claude Becker’s gallery. “…Marcia wants to come to the wedding. She’ll be out by then. Thought we could invite her family, too. Her daughter is about the same age as Tammy’s.”

“Yeah, okay. Anyone else?” Lou asked.

Debbie let her right hand fall idly from Lou’s shoulder to her back, rubbing soft, aimless circles. “Danny,” she admitted softly.

Lou wrapped her left arm around Debbie’s shoulder’s, pulling her into an awkward, side-hug, much clumsier than Lou’s usual embraces. Being ill always wreaked havoc on her grace and poise. “Yeah, Debs, of course,” she said. “Of course.”

**

**The First Monday in May – 2019**

“You know that thing you wrote and gave to Constance?” Lou called from the bathroom. “The motivational speech?”

Debbie snorted in amusement. “Motivational speech?” Standing in front of the bedroom mirror, she adjusted the neckline of her cream jacket so the edge of her gold vest-cum-bustier peeked through just enough to tease. 

“Well, what would you call it? _Anyway_,” Lou went on before Debbie could interrupt her, “all that stuff you said – about not doing it for you, about doing it for some girl dreaming of being a criminal…”

“What about it?” Debbie asked, slipping into her gold stilettos and giving her legs a once over. She ran her thumb over a bruise on the inside of her knee, trying to remember how it got there.

“I could barely get through it, Debs, you know? I got all choked up. Tammy had to tell me to pull myself together.”

“God, you’re soft.”

“Yeah, yeah, but the _point _is…” Debbie heard her sigh. “…the _point _is, I _did _do it for you, Debbie. You know that, right?”

Debbie watched a smiled twitch to life on her face as she looked in the mirror. “I know. I’d expect nothing less of you.” She heard the sound of Lou’s quiet laugh and then the dull clicks of her heels as she walked out of the bathroom. Her footsteps stopped when she reached the doorway, and Debbie looked over her shoulder in the mirror to see Lou’s eyes fixed on her.

“_Fuck_, Debbie,” Lou muttered.

Debbie smoothed the front of her jacket – cream silk in a tuxedo style that finished in classic tails. The skirt was the same cream hue, but it was leather. The fabric hugged Debbie’s curves so tightly that she had decided to forgo underwear, which she was planning on revealing to Lou later on in the evening, when the opportunity presented itself. Under the jacket, she wore a gold sequined vest, which highlighted her breasts and matched her shoes. The swirling patterns of sequins echoed those found on Lou’s green jumpsuit. Her hair was pulled back into a simple, low ponytail to make room for the low-profile cream top hat that completed the ensemble.

“Seriously, Debbie,” Lou said, finding her voice once more, “this is…something else.”

Debbie smiled and adjusted her hat. “Tammy showed me a picture of the gown she picked out for me last year. Did you know she did that? That she found something even though she _knew _I couldn’t be there?”

“Yeah, I did,” Lou said. “I told her it was important to you.”

Debbie felt a pang of gratitude in her chest for Tammy and for Lou. “Well, that dress was…” She shook her head pensively. “It was more than I could have hoped for, but I couldn’t…” She sighed. “This year isn’t about _anything_ but you and me, and even though I know I never wore that dress, it still feels like Claude touched it, like I touched _him_ while wearing it. That was the original plan, after all, so…”

“So, you went in this direction instead?” Lou asked with a grin.

“That, _and_ it fits the theme better,” Debbie added as she screwed simple pearl studs into her earlobes and turned her head from side to side, checking for flaws. 

“Camp,” Lou mused.

“Camp.”

Debbie wasn’t sure what she had been expecting at the Gala itself, but the bright pink carpet and the sheer quantity of feathers in all shades of _loud_ was enough to have her going a bit cross-eyed by the time she made it half-way up the stairs. There were fewer reporters and photographers than there had been when they had first arrived at the end of the very long queue earlier, since most of the famous people had long since passed inside, but the flashing lights that remained were starting to make her feel a bit seasick. She clutched Lou’s hand tightly in hers and turned just enough to be able to watch her. Lou was acting as though she did this every day. The jumpsuit had attracted a fair number of comments and questions, but Lou brushed them aside courteously, gracefully side-stepping any and all queries, except those that had to do with her club, which – after all – was why they were here in the first place. Debbie kept her mouth shut tight and pretended she didn’t speak English. It was always easier that way.

They spotted Rose at the top of the stairs, and if Debbie thought the bright lights and echoing noise made _her_ anxious, it was nothing compared to how Rose appeared. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a literal bird’s nest that contained small replicas of brightly colored parakeets. Her entire dress – complete with a cape – was made entirely of feathers. The cut was attractive and simple in contrast to the exaggerated avian theme, and Debbie thought she looked appropriately ridiculous. Despite this, Rose looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. She was twisting the feathers at the edge of the cape into shreds, and her eyes were as wide as Debbie had ever seen them. Debbie saw Lou narrow her eyes with concern as she took in Rose’s demeanor. She tugged Debbie by the hand over to her. 

“What’s going on?” Lou asked. Debbie turned to face one ear towards their conversation as she surveyed the people passing by, still resolutely pretending that she didn’t understand anything being said. There were still reporters around, after all.

“Er…it’s nothing,” Rose began.

Lou raised her eyebrows. “You sure?”

“No, well, er…one of the dresses I did has already fallen apart, quite literally at the seams.” She gestured vaguely towards a corner, and Debbie looked over to see a sobbing starlet surrounded by half a dozen seamstresses stapling her silvery gown back together.

“It happens,” Lou said with a shrug, “at least she made it through most of the red carpet.”

Rose nodded a little frantically. “How’re you two doing?” she asked between deep, steadying breaths.

“Fine, so far.” Lou turned to look at Debbie. Debbie fixed a perplexed look on her face. Lou rolled her eyes. “Debbie is pretending she can’t speak English.”

Rose looked confused. “Er…”

Lou sighed. “Takes care of people asking questions.”

“Oh…er…right.” Rose continued to shred the feathers of her gown. Debbie took pity on her – or rather, on the gown – and reached for one of her hands. Rose took it with a twitchy smile.

“Is Daphne here?” Lou asked, looking around with what Debbie recognized as trepidation, though Lou’s tone was light and curious for Rose’s benefit.

Rose shook her head. “She’s filming at the moment. Santa Fe.” Debbie caught a brief flash of relief behind Lou’s eyes.

“We’re going to go check out the exhibit before dinner,” Lou told Rose after a few minutes of pointless chit-chat, which Debbie was choosing to ignore in favor of appraising the wardrobe choices of those nearest her. “Care to join us?”

“No, no, I best stay,” Rose said, glancing nervously towards the actress in the corner, whose gown was back in place. Debbie released Rose’s very sweaty hand and gave her a half-smile as she followed Lou towards the exhibit hall.

“What’re you doing, Deborah?” Lou asked conversationally as they made their way arm and arm through the crowd, smiling woodenly at Anna Wintour.

“Just enjoying everything I could have been enjoying a year ago,” Debbie replied casually.

“_Everything?_” Lou asked pointedly, giving her a side-long glance.

Debbie scoffed, but didn’t answer. Besides the theme, which was decidedly more interesting than last year’s, everything about the Met Ball was exactly how she had pictured it during her hours and days and weeks and months and _years_ of planning. It was fascinating, infuriating, and surreal all at once, and she couldn’t get her mind to stop thinking about all those carefully planned footsteps, all those words she was supposed to have spoken. She made a point of stepping just a hair too close to Heidi Klum as they passed her by the bar, but Lou pulled her into her side at the last moment and clutched Debbie’s waist tightly.

“_Debbie…_”

“What?” Debbie asked innocently.

“I saw that.”

“_What?_”

Lou swung around to face her, and Debbie was forced to stop in the middle of the crowded corridor to look at her. Lou gave her a withering look, tongue in her cheek and eyes narrowed. Debbie stared back unblinkingly for a few seconds and then shrugged.

“I liked her bracelet. Did you see it? The pearls?”

“I saw it. And?” Lou prompted.

“_And_ I was supposed to talk to her last year,” Debbie said through a sigh, lowering her voice so that Lou had to lean forward to hear her over the chatter around them. “But I was in prison. I wasn’t here. It feels like I _was_, or it feels like I fucked up the job, but neither of those is true. Everything in my head – all those little, tiny steps that made it work, that _you _pulled off, baby – it’s like a phantom limb.”

Lou looked back at her, eyes darting over Debbie’s face. “Do you want to go home?” she asked quietly, expression softening at Debbie’s explanation.

“No,” Debbie said quickly, “no, that would be a waste of these shoes.”

Lou smirked and spared a glance for Debbie’s gold stilettos. “How about I show you how it all happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, every last detail, down to which tile Constance stood on to plant the Toussaint on Claude. It was _that _one, by the way,” Lou said before Debbie could ask, pointing to a spot on the floor about eight feet from where they were standing, a little bit away from the bar. Debbie let her gaze linger on the spot, could almost see him standing there, unaware that the small woman dressed in a butler’s tuxedo was taking a lead role in his downfall. Debbie smiled, and the whirring noise in her brain ceased.

“Yeah, baby, I’d like that,” she said, turning back to Lou. Lou launched into the story, and Debbie listened. She didn’t ask questions; she didn’t _need _to. Lou remembered everything. She remembered the exact time at which she and Nine Ball observed an awkward and, according to Lou, incredibly homoerotic moment between the two security guards assigned to the Toussaint. She remembered the type of watch on Anna Wintour’s wrist and compared it to this year’s model using jargon that Debbie could barely understand. She remembered the names of the kitchen staff and their individual quirks. She remembered _everything_, and she muttered it all in a stream of consciousness murmur to Debbie as they glided through the exhibits arm-in-arm. Debbie felt like she was floating. 

Dinner was excellent, even by Lou’s snobbishly high standards. Debbie smirked at her soup as she took her first bite, amused by Lou’s whispered description of how Tammy had described Daphne Kluger’s I’ve-just-realized-that-I’m-about-to-vomit face. After the soup, there was glazed salmon, which Lou had chosen for each of them off the proffered menu options months ago. Debbie had missed seafood more than anything else in prison; frozen fish sticks just didn’t cut it. She basked in Lou’s voice, in the way her hands worked her knife and fork, in the movement of her throat as she swallowed. And finally, _finally _a sense of triumph washed over her. Debbie’s eyes met Lou’s as she finished her last bite of fish and laid her cutlery on her plate.

“What?” Lou asked, mouth twitching into a bemused smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Debbie teased. She pushed her chair back from the table, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and set it carefully on the table.

Lou narrowed her eyes. “Like you want to skip dessert,” she muttered.

Debbie stood and stepped behind Lou, fingertips brushing her shoulders as she bent to bring her lips to Lou’s ear. “Maybe I do.”

Debbie felt a shiver run through Lou’s body at the words, and she stepped away, not looking back. She heard the scrape of Lou’s chair and sensed her following through the crowds of milling celebrities. Lou’s hand found her lower back just as they reached the bathrooms, and Debbie allowed Lou to guide her into the stall at the end. Debbie locked the door behind them and turned to find Lou’s body mere inches from hers.

“What, you’re going to fuck me in a bathroom?” Lou asked, raising her eyebrows. Her expression was incredulous, but as she settled her hands on either side of Debbie’s head against the door, Debbie noticed a faint blush on her cheekbones.

“I was thinking about it,” Debbie replied unconcernedly. She reached up and pulled her top hat off head and ran her fingers through her hair.

Lou chewed the inside of her cheek, considering Debbie’s expression. “You really want this?”

“I really do.” Debbie kept her voice casual, but she could feel slick heat gathering between her thighs. 

Lou leaned closed, her breath fluttering against Debbie’s neck. “We could go home instead, Debs. I would spread you on the table, on the floor – anywhere. I don’t think we’d make it to the bed. And then…”

“Then…” Debbie echoed, thoughts blurring.

“Then I would _fuck _you,” Lou whispered. “With my fingers, with my _cock_…”

Debbie felt her knees wobble, but she maintained an outward element of composure by pushing her shoulders more firmly into the stall door. “I can’t wait that long,” Debbie whispered. “I want you.” She swallowed hard against the deepening of her voice and reached out for Lou’s waist, letting the top hat tumble from her fingers.

Lou’s hands found Debbie’s and pinned them firmly against the wooden door. “Oh, no, honey, I think you need it far more than I do.”

“Oh, stop, I’m sure you’ve already ruined that jumpsuit.”

“Mm, and_ I’m _sure you’ve already ruined your lingerie,” Lou shot back.

Debbie tilted her head and allowed a sly grin to spread across her features. “I would have, but I never put any on.”

Lou’s lips parted slightly, but instead of expressing her surprise, she leaned forward and grazed her teeth against Debbie’s neck. Debbie moaned at the sudden sensation, and then bit her lip. She didn’t really want to be caught, not here in the stall where Constance had relieved Daphne Kluger of six pounds of diamonds from around her throat last year. Before her mind could form any images of Daphne’s head in a toilet bowl, Lou’s fingers sank into her hips and spun her around. Debbie cried out in surprise, and Lou’s palm clapped over her mouth at once, stifling the sound.

“Quiet, Debbie,” Lou breathed in her ear. Debbie nodded and placed an open-mouthed kiss on Lou’s palm. “Well done,” Lou said. She withdrew her hand and returned it to Debbie’s hips. Her fingers slid over Debbie’s backside to her thighs and down to the hem of her leather skirt. Debbie pressed her hips back into Lou.

“Need you, baby,” she whispered, resting her forehead against the door and squeezing her eyes shut.

“I can see that,” Lou muttered. “I love you like this, you know that?” Lou traced her fingers up the insides of Debbie’s thighs, rolling up the fabric of her skirt with the other hand as she went.

Debbie bit her lip against a whimper as Lou’s fingers dipped into her briefly and then withdrew. “Please, Lou…”

“Spread your legs,” Lou requested with a quick tap to Debbie’s hip.

Debbie obeyed immediately. This wasn’t exactly what she had planned when she stood up from the table five minutes ago. At the time, the images in her brain mostly emphasized her own head between Lou’s legs. This turn of events, however, was more than desirable, and there would be plenty of time for her own ideas later, plenty of time _whenever,_ because she was Lou’s, utterly and completely.

“Stop thinking, Debs,” Lou breathed in her ear.

“Make me,” Debbie replied at once, turning her head to find Lou’s lips with hers just as Lou’s fingers sank knuckle-deep inside her. The sensations filled her up until she was drowning in them: Lou’s lips on hers, her own breathless gasps, the wooden door pressing against her forehead, and Lou’s fingers coaxing waves of pleasure through her body again and again.

Sometime later, Debbie slumped back against Lou, her eyes fluttering closed. “Let’s go home,” she murmured, voice rough from trying to contain her moans. “I want dessert.”

“Mm. Do you?” Lou drawled as she straightened Debbie’s skirt back into place and then trailed her fingers higher to rebutton her jacket.

Debbie turned her face into Lou’s neck and nibbled her pulse point. “I want you to come on my tongue,” she whispered.

“Jesus _Christ_, Debbie,” Lou scoffed. “What’s got into you?”

“Oh, you mean apart from you?”

“_Debs…_”

“It finally hit me that we _did _it,” Debbie said honestly, turning in Lou’s arms to face her and settling both hands on her shoulders. “Maybe that’s what comes of running a job from the inside – it took a long time for it to feel real. But being here tonight…” She gestured at the cramped bathroom stall. “…it finally hit me.”

“Feeling better than earlier?” Lou asked.

“So much.”

“You’re not going to steal anything on our way out?”

“Nothing valuable.” Debbie smiled. Lou grinned, eyes twinkling.

“Not even this?” Lou asked. She pulled a pearl bracelet out of her pocket. Debbie recognized it at once, remembered eying it on Heidi Klum’s wrist earlier. She reached out and ran a finger over the pearls.

“For me, baby?” Debbie asked.

“For you,” Lou said. She took Debbie’s right wrist between her hands and fastened the pearls around it. Debbie admired the pearls against the cream silk cuff of her jacket.

“So,” she said after a moment, “home?”

“Lead the way.” 

**

**Eight Years Later**

Nine Ball’s lounge was thriving. The Greenwich Village location drew an interesting mix of people, and the high ceilings with open rafters made the room feel like an escape in the claustrophobia of an overly-warm New York spring. Debbie sat at the bar with a beer, watching Lou losing soundly to Nine Ball’s superior pool skills. It was mid-afternoon and the lounge was quiet but for the three of them and a few students studying at a booth in the back and taking advantage of Nine Ball’s free high-bandwidth Wifi.

“What are you planning?” Lou asked, sauntering over to Debbie after conceding her defeat.

“You’ll see,” Debbie answered.

“Is it a job?”

“Not exactly.” Debbie smirked. 

“Good,” Lou said. “We’re not totally in the clear after the Seattle affair.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.” Lou leaned on the bar next to Debbie’s stool and slowly unwrapped a piece of bright red gum. Debbie watched her long fingers crumple the wrapper and toss it into the wastepaper basket behind the bar before slipping the gum into her mouth. It was incredible that, after all these years, something as simple as Lou with a stick of gum could make Debbie’s pulse race. Lou popped her gum and raised her eyebrows knowingly.

“Shut up,” Debbie chastised her. Lou kissed her on the cheek, and Debbie could smell cinnamon on her breath.

The bell over the door tinkled loudly and Debbie looked up. She felt Lou stiffen next to her, muscles poised in surprise. Nine Ball glanced up from dusting the racks of pool cues in the corner and did a double take at the tall man standing in the doorway. Debbie ran her lips between her teeth and slid off her stool. She was amazed at how calm she felt as she walked towards him, knew the adrenaline would hit her like a bus later on, once this was over.

“I was meaning to call you. I didn’t expect…” Claude looked around at what had been his gallery and then turned back to Debbie. She kept her face impassive. “You look—”

“Like the hottest dyke you’ve ever seen?” Debbie finished for him. “Isn’t that what you used to tell me?” Debbie watched his eyes flicker with confusion. He seemed momentarily dumbstruck.

“What do you want?” he asked finally, taking a step towards the door.

Debbie frowned and stepped close to him, sliding an old piece of razor-sharp plastic from her left sleeve as she did so. “Do you know what a shiv is?” she whispered, pressing the blade against his throat. She heard a rustle behind her as Lou stepped forward. Debbie silently begged her not to interfere. If Lou got involved, if Claude even so much as twitched in her direction, Debbie knew there wasn’t anything that would prevent her from breaking the oldest and most sacred of her rules: no one dies. 

“Stop,” he breathed, “Just stop. What…?” His eyes darkened and hardened. “You…,” he whispered. “The Met, that necklace…” She saw the realization hit him. “I’ll call the police.”

“Okay.” Debbie kept her voice even and her eyes fixed on his, not giving anything away. She let the sharp edge of the shiv fall to Claude’s shirt and catch on one of his mother-of-pearl buttons. His gaze traveled from the weapon at his chest to the ring on her finger, lingering there before it fixated on the leather and brass watch on her wrist. His eyes burned.

“You,” he spat.

“You recognize it?” Debbie asked, twisting her wrist slightly, so the face of the watch caught the light. “Give Allison my best.” Debbie pulled the blade of the shiv towards her, cleanly slicing through the threads behind Claude’s button and deftly catching it in her right hand. She stepped back, turned away from Claude, and walked towards Lou. Lou’s hand slid into hers like a lock and key, and Debbie turned back to Claude with a half-smile on her face. He took another step towards the door.

“Get out.” Lou’s voice took Debbie by surprise. It was colder than Debbie had ever heard it. The temperature in the room seemed to drop at least ten degrees, and Debbie shivered. 

“Fuck you, Ocean,” Claude said. Debbie smiled again and looked at Lou, watched her ice blue eyes turn stormy. Out of the corner of her eye, Debbie saw Claude smirk, and she recognized his coping mechanism, knew there was fear hidden in the curl of his lip.

“Get. Out,” Lou said again through gritted teeth. She was squeezing Debbie’s hand so tightly that Debbie thought her bones might be crushed, and her other hand was balled into a fist. 

Claude stared at them both for a minute, eyes darting as if weighing his chances. Then he pivoted on his heel and left the lounge without another word, leaving only a sickly-sweet scent of his cologne behind. Debbie exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and stepped closer to Lou. She slid her arms around Lou’s waist, holding her close. Debbie could feel Lou trembling.

“I really thought you might do it,” Lou murmured against her hair. “You know…” She jabbed her fist into Debbie’s ribs with a stabbing motion.

Debbie hummed a laugh against Lou’s collarbone and then slid back onto her stool at the bar, looking over at the students in the corner who were still absorbed in their laptops and clearly hadn’t noticed anything. “I told you I’d let it go one day, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“And now I have.” Debbie drained her beer.

“Yeah, you told him, Mama,” Nine Ball butted in, opening a fresh bottle and sliding it across the table to Debbie. Debbie winked at her and turned back to Lou with a calm smile.

Lou looked at her. Her blue eyes were soft again, no longer stormy the way they had been when she looked at Claude. Lou’s fingers slid over Debbie’s, tugging the bottle of beer from her grasp and setting it on the bar. Debbie bit her lip, trying to read the expression in Lou’s eyes, but Lou had always been the only puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. Lou’s lips met Debbie’s in a bruising kiss that took Debbie by surprise. She gasped and then sighed, letting the edges of her thoughts blur. Lou tasted like cinnamon gum, like home, like forever. And Debbie knew she always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming on this wild ride! I really appreciate all your support, comments, kudos <3 <3 
> 
> Definitely have more Heist Wives content coming your way! If you are interested in submitting requests for the Heist Wives toybox series, send me an ask or dm on tumblr, or post a comment here. If you have a username on AO3, I can make the request fic a gift as well. Either way, I will credit the requester in the notes. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @Netterz for beta reading, and to @go_get_your_top_hat for beta-ing, for the title, and for being the most wonderful Lou to my Debbie ( I <3 U). 
> 
> Thoughts? Ideas? find me on Tumblr @estel-of-irysi. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments make me so, so happy! Please let me know what you think. I love writing for you all. :) <3


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